


Tiger Stripes and Smartphones

by vivi1138



Series: Start Over [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, The smol bean swears a lot as usual, There is more than one small bean in there, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138
Summary: In the glorious year 2004, the famous Victor Nikiforov owns a Nokia3510 and is very proud to be the only one at school who got rid of his monochrome mobile phone. So, where is his precious device when he wakes up in an unfamiliar room and finds an expensive smartphone filled with pictures of someone who looks exactly like him... but older?The Time Traveling AU, where young Victor swapped lives with his older self and woke up in Japan just before Onsen on Ice. Yuuri and Yuri are in for the shock of their lives, and Yakov needs help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Muahaha it's me again and this time I bring you no angst, or if I do it'll be very light.  
> Before starting I need to say that there will be no Yuuri/Young Victor relationship in this story, but there will be a massive crush somewhere.  
> Obligatory "non-native speaker, no beta" warning.

There were several things Victor despised, like Brussels sprouts, the smell of coffee and cigar smoke, unreliable shower pressure, tangled hair and, of course, his grandmother’s infamous potato gratin. Another one, which he thankfully did not get to experience often, was the nausea and pain accompanying a hangover.

Victor didn’t drink often. He didn’t drink at all, actually, not since the cocktail incident at the Grand Prix Final banquet a year ago. Cocktails were great: sweet, fruity, delicious - and dangerous. And so many different ones to taste! It had been his mistake, really. He could only blame his tendency to ignore everything his coach told him, because he knew, in the back of his mind, that Yakov had explained which drinks were non-alcoholic and which ones he should avoid. 

Since that day, he could recognize a hangover, but this one confused him greatly. He didn’t remember drinking anything. It confused him even more when it faded much faster than he ever thought possible, and soon his mind was clear again.

He wondered if he had just dreamed it all. Could pain linger when it wasn’t real? He guessed it could indeed, if the dream had felt so real his brain actually believed he lived through it. Whatever that dream was, he had no memory of it.

He turned around in his bed and lifted the blanket over his head. Since he didn’t smell any food, it was still too early to get up - he hoped he would get to eat syrniki today, it had been a while since he had any. Makkachin stirred next to him and Victor’s hand left the warmth of the blanket to pet him. Only then did he open his eyes.

He sat up so quickly his head started spinning. He wasn’t in his room. Where were his medals and trophies? Where was the framed picture of his quadruple flip, or his desk, or even his old computer that made the loudest noise when it turned on? Everything around him was made of wood and paper. A typical Japanese room, if he didn’t look at the Russian novels on the small bookshelf. Had he been kidnapped? If so, would Makkachin be so calm? He got out of bed and the green pants he was wearing fell. He squeaked and pulled them back up, finding them much too large for his body. 

Something vibrated. The dog woke up and nuzzled Victor’s leg before leaving the room, and Victor looked for the source of the noise.

It seemed to be a phone, judging by the blinking number and phone icon on the screen, but the Russian had never seen anything like it before. It stopped vibrating and the white screen was replaced by a picture of Makkachin playing in the snow. Victor gasped. Where was his own phone,  his brand new Nokia3510 and who were all these people in his contacts list? What kind of kidnapper would leave him alone in a room with a mobile device containing Yakov’s number? No, he hadn’t been taken against his will, it couldn’t be.

He understood the device was like a computer when he found audio, text and video files on it, but before he could check any of them, fast and loud steps approached the door and stopped in front of it.

“You better be awake or I’m telling Katsudon about the banquet!”

He grabbed a potted plant, ready to attack whoever would enter the room. The door slid open.

“Wake the fuck u-”

The intruder dropped his bag and stared, frozen. Victor relaxed, but kept the plant within reach. It was just a kid. A blond, angry and small bean whose eyes kept widening as he glared at him.

“Who are you? Where am I and how did I get there?” Victor asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Don’t- who- fuck.” The kid moved closer. “Victor?”

He frowned and nodded, and the kid started laughing uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop and fell on the bed, wheezing, tears streaming down his face while Victor judged his fashion choices - leopard and tiger prints were not cool, especially mixed together. It was a shame, because the boy was gorgeous. 

“Mind explaining yourself?” he sighed, now convinced someone was pranking him.

It took a while, but the blonde calmed down and grinned.

“So, I have no clue what happened but I love it and I almost don’t want to tell you but you look like you’ll start crying and that’ll piss me off. What’s the date today?”

“April 10th. What’s-”

“Year?”

_ This is stupid, _ he thought, annoyed and worried.

“2004, now can you tell me where I am? Otherwise I’ll just call my coach.”

“You’ll give him a heart attack. Anyway, old man, welcome to April 10th, 2016! I’m Yuri Plisetsky.”

Victor stood still, then his eyes fell on the strange phone again. They focused on the date, and it convinced him it was a joke some of his competitors played on him. Smirking, he crossed his arms on his chest and asked him to prove it. Yuri snorted and took the phone from him, touched the screen a few times and gave it back to him.

“Swipe right.”

It took three tries but he got the hang of it. It seemed to be a photo album - one he wanted to look at before Yuri barged in - and the pictures he saw were all from his competitions, taken from paper magazines and scanned. He went through the album, humming, before he found one image where he was wearing a costume that Yakov had just commissioned for his next season. He had actively participated in its design and would recognize it anywhere, so why was he wearing it on the ice? He kept swiping, his eyes growing wider with each gesture, until-

“WHAT HAPPENED TO MY HAIR?!”

His hand flew to his head where he found his wonderful silver hair still cascading down his back. Inhaling deeply in relief, he concentrated on the phone once more. He gasped. There were more pictures, silly ones now, and the person posing was older and manlier, his body tall and lithe. That person also had no shame and led a colorful life. Most of all, that person was Victor, his hair cut short and his forehead too big. He started sweating.

“That’s photoshopped, you’re lying to me,” he stammered. Yuri shrugged.

“Believe me or don't, I don’t care. You’re still Victor and you have a promise to keep so get dressed.”

Yuri opened a cupboard overflowing with clothes and threw a few at him, but Victor couldn’t wear any of them.

“They’re too big for me.”

The blonde eyed him from head to toe and stood next to him. 

“I guess I can let you use mine, or maybe Katsudon’s. Be right back.”

_“Katsudon”_ ’s clothes fit him pretty well but the pants were still too wide, so he could only hope Yurio wouldn’t bring him anything with animal print. After a few minutes of rummaging through yet another closet, Victor found himself dressed in a ripped pair of jeans and a comfortable hooded blue sweater. He asked where the bathroom was and started to understand that he was actually in Japan, if he trusted the instructions for the weird electronic toilet he had the misfortune of testing by mistake. He brushed his hair with what was probably Yuri’s brush since it was full of long blond hair, and rinsed his mouth with mouthwash because there was no way he would use one of the toothbrushes available in front of him. If he had really switched places with his older self, one of them was his, but he had no idea which one and wouldn't risk it.

He followed Yuri downstairs and they didn’t meet anyone. Shoes might have been another inconvenience but they fit him. His feet had stopped growing early. Excited, Makkachin barked and ran out. How had he not noticed how much bigger he was until now?

“If I’m really in the future, is Makkachin alright?”  

Yuri faked a yawn and they both walked outside. 

“I guess. Want to be lazy as always or run with me?”

“Where are we going?”

“Ice rink. We usually jog there and you take the bike to taunt us.”

“We can run… who is “us”? Katsudon is a strange name.”

“Katsudon’s the guy you decided to coach like the irresponsible prick you are. You left everything behind and moved in with him and now I’m here to bring you back to Russia so you can stop your nonsense. His name is Yuuri. He’s a fat loser. Don’t you dare call me Yurio because you think it’s confusing. It’s not. Pronounce it properly, that’s all.”

Coaching? If it was 2016, it made sense he would start thinking of another career path, but he wondered if something happened to him. The amount of information overwhelmed him and he took off. While he ran, he could empty his head. Yuri caught up with him and didn’t say a word. They reached Ice Castle and after Yuri put on his skates, Victor heard the sound of blades on ice. Curious, he walked towards the rink, hearing Yuri say that he needed to record Katsudon’s reaction. 

The skater wasn’t fat at all, nor was he a loser. He watched him perform a complicated step sequence and it angered him that Yuri would insult such a talented man. Talented _and_ beautiful. If this was who he was supposed to coach, he understood his older self. Something stirred in his chest when he looked at him. 

“Hi~” he exclaimed in English, waving, forgetting everything around him for a moment and smiling.

The man looked at him and beamed. He was so cute, Victor was at a loss for words. 

“Victor! I’m glad Yurio found you, I practiced the quad salchow with him earlier and I want to show you.”

Quad salchow? The Russian kid could land that? Interesting. 

Yuuri skated to the edge of the rink and put on a pair of blue glasses. His face went white.  


“Vi… Victor, what… how… when…”

He looked like he would run away if he wasn’t wearing skates. Yuri gave him his blade guards and patted his back, telling him to go rest, but Victor had another idea.

“Yuuri!” he greeted again, this time bouncing in front of him and wrapping him in a tight hug. The man was taller than him, though not by much, and he was warm and adorable, so why not? Apparently, it made him uncomfortable. Victor felt him tense up, so he let go, and Yuuri rushed into the locker room. 

Victor pouted while Yuri stopped recording.

“I’m saying it again and I don’t care,” the blonde declared. “I’m going to love this.” 


	2. Chapter 2

An awkward silence lingered in the locker room of Ice Castle when Victor came back with a cup of hot chocolate for Yuuri, who sat still on the floor, eyes fixed on his feet. The silver-haired teenager glanced at Yuri, curious about his mobile phone - smartphone, the younger teen had said - then handed the cup to the Japanese man and sat next to the blonde.

“Can you reexplain from the beginning?” Victor asked, eyeing Yuuri, whose shoulders twitched.

“I told you already,” Yuri growled. “You’re here to coach him and you forgot that you promised to choreograph my program for my senior debut.”

“Which makes no sense because why would I give my programs to my competition?”

“Because you’re Victor. Anyway, you gave us a program each and you keep asking us what they mean to us and you even send us to the temple where I always get hit with a stick by some crazy monk - basically, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Can you show them to me?”

Yuuri sipped his drink slowly. The more he looked at him, the cuter he got. Victor loved his bright brown eyes and adorable pink cheeks. He might have a little crush on him. Not very surprising. Victor was impulsive and pretty boys were easy on the eyes so, he had a tendency to fall for them quickly. Did his older self feel the same way? Was this why he came all the way to Japan? He could see himself do it. At the moment he didn’t have money, his earnings were locked into a savings account he wouldn’t get access to until his eighteenth birthday. He had to attend school, and he trained every day. But for this more-than-a-decade-older Victor, surely traveling wasn’t an issue. He decided to get to know himself better, and for that, he needed to see what his brain created. 

“I’ll join you later,” Yuuri muttered, and Victor agreed, excited. He put on his skates, blinking at the gold blades and thinking he liked them. The younger Yuri plugged his phone on a speaker by the side of the rink (Victor struggled against his curiosity, impressed  once again that phones had come so far) then glided towards the center of the rink. He then scowled:

“Apparently that one’s called On Love: Agape. Don’t tell me it’s not Agape enough.”

“What’s it about?”

“Unconditional love bullshit.”

He smirked.  _ Good job me, giving this to a ball of concentrated anger. _

The music started, a beautiful, haunting song that tugged at every fiber of his being. He watched Yuri and while he could immediately see that his expression didn’t fit the theme, denying his talent was impossible. Yuri Plisetsky was just as good as him… perhaps even better, if he could nail the interpretation, something Victor had always excelled at. 

He asked him to do it again without the jumps and stepped on the ice to follow his movements, tying his hair in a loose ponytail. He read suspicion in the kid’s eyes.

“I’m not going to steal it from you, I just want to skate it,” he remarked, smirking. “Unless you can’t get the feeling of it of course. I think sending you to the temple is a smart idea, go me!”

Yuri’s jaw tensed.

It took a few minutes for Victor to get the steps right, and he realized he, too, seemed to have issues finding what unconditional love meant for him. It didn’t seem right to skate for his parents after the meltdown he had a few days ago because they threatened to give Makkachin away if he didn’t take care of him properly - it had happened once! Only once. He slept in, and the poodle peed on the couch. He was still furious just thinking about the whole thing, when a snort surprised him. He stopped after landing a quadruple toe loop and found Yuri greatly amused, and finally, Yuuri, standing next to the blonde, apparently waiting to say something.

“Looks like you need to visit the temple too, Victor!” the youngest sang, delighted.

“Can I try?”

Both Russians looked at Yuuri, who still seemed flustered but was, at least, not crumpled in a corner anymore. Victor grinned and joined Yuri to watch the older man.

The Japanese didn’t jump, because what he wanted to show them was his Agape. Once he struck his final pose, hands joined high up above him and back arched, Victor could barely contain his joy. Yuuri was incredible.

“What was I thinking, giving this to little Yuri?” he said, rushing to Yuuri’s side and pulling him into a hug while jumping up and down on the ice. “That was so good! You can get gold with this, if you can manage the jumps!”

“Hey moron, that’s MY program!” Yuri yelled.

Yuuri didn’t seem to hear him, instead he smiled and, hesitant at first, ruffled Victor’s hair.

“You wanted to challenge us. You said we needed to surprise people. You gave me the Eros version of the song, for sexual love.” Victor felt his face heat up. “To be honest, you couldn’t really give it to a fifteen years old.”

“Okay,” he replied, still not understanding his own idea fully but seriously impressed with his “protégé”. “I think we all need to talk.”

“Damn right.”

“And,” he added with a heart-shaped smile directed at Yuri, “I’ll call you Yurio, since you gave me the idea this morning. You were right, it’s too confusing. Now let’s go somewhere and discuss this mess!”

He could still feel Yuuri’s fingers in his hair when they left, Yuri - no, Yurio - grumbling while they put their shoes back on. He kicked stones on the sidewalk all the way back to the inn Victor now knew was named Yu-topia.

 

 

*

 

 

Victor met Yuuri’s sister. She stared at him, then at her brother, then at Yurio, and gasped a strangled “What happened, who is this?”

“Hi! I’m Victor. The same one. Only younger.”

“He kinda… shrank,” Yuuri stated with an apologetic smile.

“You left him in the washing machine for too long,” Yurio added.

The woman, Mari, obviously didn’t believe them, but she still brought food. They were sitting in an unused room so they could have some privacy away from the other guests, without eating in their bedrooms. The bowl placed in front of Victor smelled heavenly. Once Mari was gone, he learned it was Yuuri’s favourite food and the reason for Yurio’s nickname for him - and when he tasted it, he couldn’t help but yell about how delicious it was. Honestly, he never ate something that tasty in his entire life. Yuuri laughed and told him his older self had reacted the same way. He noticed the plate of steamed vegetables and chicken in front of him and felt sorry about it, but didn’t mention anything. Perhaps Yuuri was on a diet.

He ate his meal without leaving a single grain of rice then lay on the floor, blissfully happy. Oh, the joy of not having a mother yelling at him for not doing the dishes.

“So,” Yuuri started after a few seconds of silence. “I’m really glad you’re here, Victor, but how do we send you back? I need the older you.”

He raised an eyebrow, unwilling to move.

“Well I have no idea how I got there, I guess I’ll just switch back at some point.”

“What if you don’t?”

The question hung low in the air. Victor sat up, his hair now freely covering his shoulders and falling down his back. He disliked Yuuri’s worried expression and wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be alright. 

“I can’t really be a coach, I’m only sixteen, and I want to skate,” he explained, and he thought Yuuri would start crying, but he didn’t, he just bit his lower lip and looked him in the eye.

“I was about to retire from figure skating entirely when you showed up and offered to coach me,” he revealed, speaking softly. “You were preparing me for the next Grand Prix and I trusted you. Then Yurio arrived and demanded you go back to Russia, so you pitted us against each other and said you’d follow whatever the winner wants. Without a coach, I can’t compete.”

“Oi, Katsudon, if this Victor coaches you, you’re going to fail. He’s not as good as our Victor, not yet. You wouldn’t want me as a coach, right? Then you don’t want a baby Victor either.”

“And I can’t just stop skating for a year, I need to train,” Victor continued. A sudden thought came to him and he clapped his hand. “I KNOW!”

The other two frowned and waited for an explanation, the buzzing of voices from the main dining room barely audible. He stood up and paced on the tatami mats. Yes, that would work. 

“Yuuri! Get your passport. We’re all going to Russia.”

“I can’t afford a plane ticket-”

“I have my future me’s credit card.”

Yuuri’s expression changed. It transformed from a sad pout into a hopeful smile and even Yurio appeared pleased.

“What about Onsen on Ice? That’s the competition we were about to advertise. Can you be a bit more specific? How is Russia changing anything for the pig?” he asked.

“We cancel Onsen on Ice, since we didn’t print any posters yet,” Yuuri interrupted, “but I’m curious too. You can’t mean what I think you mean.”

_ Oh yes I do, dear Yuuri,  _ he thought, and his grin widened.

“All three of us train with Yakov!” he declared. “I’m supposed to be taking a year off or retiring, right? But I can’t afford to not train at all until I go back to my time.”

“There are a few problems with your plan. Where do we stay and how do we convince Yakov?”

“I’m the best at convincing him. I’m sure he missed the young me.”

Yurio laughed and shook his head but didn’t say anything else, until Victor asked himself, out loud, where they would sleep. They couldn’t just go back to his parents’ home, not with him looking like this, and not without knowing if they still lived there or were even talking. In his time, they didn’t know about his sexuality, because he was afraid to tell them. What if his future self did, and ruined their relationship? But if this was 2016, there was no way he didn’t have an apartment. Maybe he could find the key somewhere in the mess that crowded his room. He asked Yurio if he knew, and the younger teen sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You live in the streets. What do you think? I even have a key to your place. You and Katsudon can live there. I can’t wait to see Yakov’s face.”

“Ooooh it will be epic!”

Yuuri, who didn’t seem to be sharing their wicked enthusiasm, sat quietly, his smile not reaching his eyes. Did he miss the older him? What was their relationship like? Was he uneasy because he didn’t know how to act around him? He observed him and wondered if it was fear he could see on his face. 

He took the risk to make things even more awkward and moved towards the Japanese man, hugging him from behind and squeezing him tightly with a giggle. At first, Yuuri froze, but Victor could guess he gradually felt better. Once he let him go, Yuuri excused himself and went for a walk with Makkachin. Yurio played on his phone and the silver-haired boy went back to his room, having some trouble finding the way at first. He then looked into his older self’s belongings. He didn’t need to pack anything, really, since none of the clothes fit him. He also took the time to discover his phone, getting used to it rather quickly and enjoying his Instagram feed - whatever that was. He could follow his own future life, and he discovered he hadn’t changed much. Except his hair.

Eventually, he browsed his contact list, found Yakov's number, and pressed “call”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Yuuri has no clue how to react to all of this :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present-day Victor visits his own past.

Seeing how he hugged his blanket and pillow, Victor might have been a koala in a previous life. Or an octopus, but koalas were cuter and fluffier. Yuuri however, was adorable enough to be one. Just like the green, fuzzy koala watching him sleep  _ Oh God WHAT IS THAT WHERE AM I _

The Russian shoved the intruder off the bed and sat up, blinded by the bright morning light coming through the high and narrow window. The type of window often found in European houses.

His breath caught in his throat when his foggy mind cleared up. Yesterday, after perfecting the Agape and Eros routines for Yurio and Yuuri, then soaking in the onsen with a sulking blond Russian and an adorably flushed Japanese, he went to bed early, still tired from getting drunk a few nights before. He definitely needed more time to recover from a hangover now that he was getting older. The bed he fell asleep in was a double bed in the unused banquet room of Yu-topia Katsuki. It was furnished with Western-style items, but the tatami, sliding door and closet were typically Japanese. Nothing like what he saw now. The worst part was, he knew this room.

Confused, he bent down and retrieved the green koala from the dark wooden floor. He glared at it.

“Don’t make that face. I remember you, you creepy thing.” He also remembered its untimely death when Makkachin decided it would make a good chew toy. He had been seventeen, and very upset.

Instinctively, he touched his face and hair, then realized why he was so uncomfortable. He was wearing a fleece pajama much too small for his body. He stepped out of bed and struggled to remove his clothes, then stood, naked and shivering, in the middle of the room he had lived in for most of his life.

Same queen-sized bed, same grey and orange-dotted sheets contrasting vividly with the green koala, same thick curtains framing the window - they were wide open, as usual, because Victor never closed them. The white walls were adorned with a large framed picture of himself performing in his androgynous black costume covered with large gems, and above the desk at the foot of the bed, he could see his medals and a collection of small pictures. His old desktop computer, heavy and slow, was displaying a classic Window screensaver.

This was his room, at least nine years ago. A room that had since then been repurposed for his mother’s sewing hobby.

He found a phone on the nightstand and guessed it was actually more than nine years ago. Twelve, probably, because he changed his phone regularly and he didn’t keep that one for long since it fell into the toilet. He wrapped himself up in his blanket, but couldn’t remember his PIN, so he tossed it aside and groaned. Did he really travel back in time? Was he going to meet his young self and destroy the universe? He couldn’t risk it. He would stay holed up in his room until he went back to 2016, then he would hug Yuuri, maybe even kiss the corner of his lips, and he would never take anything for granted ever again.

Unfortunately, destiny, fate or a bored god had a different idea.

“Vitya, you’ll be late, don’t make me come up there!”

He froze. This couldn’t be real, right? 

But the footsteps walking up the stairs were too loud to be fake. He contemplated running away through the window, but he was on the second floor and he could see a thin layer of ice on the outside of the glass, and he was naked. He needed to borrow his father’s clothes but the master bedroom was at the end of the hallway and oh no his mother was knocking on the door in that fast way that always told Victor he’d better be dressed and cleaned up or all hell would break loose and he would have to wash the dishes for the next four weeks.

There was no choice. He went back to bed and pulled the cover to his nose. The next thing he knew, his mother was standing in the doorway, with a heart-shaped smile announcing thunder.

“Good morning Vitya.”

“Hi Mama…”

“Don’t even pretend to be sick. Get up now. No breakfast or you’ll be late.”

“Mama, I have something to tell you-”

“No, Victor, you don’t.”

He cringed.

“I need clothes.”

“Did you set fire to your closet?”

She crossed her arms on her chest. Eva Nikiforova was a beautiful blond woman who hid a strong personality behind an angel’s face, and could be sweet or unyielding when she needed to be. Nobody messed with her. Victor looked a lot like her when he was younger, but as an adult he took more after his father. Eva had given birth before her eighteenth birthday and had been lucky to have a supportive boyfriend who married her shortly after. She sacrificed her career as a ballerina to raise her boy, while Yulian, her husband, went to University. At first, he wanted to find a job to support them but Eva had shown the first sign of her strong will: as long as she lived, he would not follow her path. He would get a higher education, then a high paying job, so their little family would never struggle. His parents helped them financially along the way.

Victor was raised by a strict but loving couple and a pair of grandparents. Yulian became a lawyer. They bought a beautiful house and made sure Victor would grow up to be a respectful and bright man. Eva shed tears of joy when it became obvious he was serious about figure skating. They spared no expense to ensure he could rise to the top.

The champion loved his parents, and he feared his mother’s wrath even at almost thirty years old. He bit his lips and uncovered himself slowly, keeping his eyes locked with Eva’s.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. Screams, maybe, though he could hardly imagine her lose control, or perhaps a venomous response accusing him of breaking into her son’s room. She just stared, and he could have sworn he saw the corner of her lips twitch.

“Mama?”

“That’s a surprise. How old are you?”

“I… what? Twenty-eight, but-”

“No wonder you can’t fit in your old clothes. Come with me.”

Once again, he wrapped his body in the blanket, then followed her, bewildered. She remarked he was much taller now and Victor only nodded, speechless. She gave him his privacy while he put on the outfit his father wore on his days off: an old pair of jeans and a thick white sweater. He definitely didn’t inherit his father’s lack of sense of style. He then spent some time in the bathroom, brushing his hair and teeth - it couldn’t be a dream, what kind of dream would have him do something so boring? When he joined his mother, she was in the dining room, serving breakfast.

“Thanks, Mama,” he mumbled, sitting down, eyes sparkling at the syrniki covered in jam and cream. She rarely cooked this kind of breakfast since the boy was an athlete, but they had agreed that she would do it once a month. If he truly traveled back in time, how lucky was he to find these on the table today. She sat at her usual spot across from him and drank her tea slowly.

“You look good. Still skating?”

“I was, up until a few weeks ago. I’m coaching at the moment,” he answered, unwilling to tell her about his medals in case it set expectations for his younger self and somehow destroyed everything.

She hummed but didn’t ask for details.

“I’m sorry but, how are you not freaking out? Where is the other me?”

“The other you is where you were yesterday.”

His eyes widened. Yuuri… and Yurio… what if his younger self tried to seduce his precious Katsudon? No, he wouldn’t do that, and if he did, Yuuri knew better. A thought passed through his mind and he cringed at the idea that the young him might be attracted to Yurio, since he definitely had a thing for pretty boys. They would be about the same age. He tried to eat, but his stomach was in knots.

“Don’t look so spooked. Your father really enjoyed his time jumps after all. It’s in your blood.”

_ What? _ He dropped his spoon.

“It happened to him twice, so I know a bit about it, though we never figured out why he could do it and how to stop it. First of all, don’t worry. Nothing you do today will have any influence on the future. I’m not sure this is really the past, it could just be another dimension. That’s what your father says. Once you leave the past, no one who interacted with you will remember it and anything you did will be undone. The young you, however, can and will change things, so you better hope he doesn’t do anything stupid. The people in the future will also remember everything.”

“So, if I go to the post office and ask that a letter be mailed at a certain date for young me in the future, he’s never going to receive it?”

“Correct. Now eat.”

It was easier to feel hunger now that he wasn’t worried about ruining his own life, and he even managed to smirk, thinking of Yurio and Yuuri’s expressions when they saw the younger him. He truly hoped he would go back to Hasetsu soon though, because poor Yuuri would definitely not get a gold medal if he was coached by a kid. The best skater in the world, yes, but still a child. He wondered if his young self would remember when he went back to his own time, and figured he would, if his father did and was able to tell his mother about his adventures. So, if he did remember, his mother was right, it had to be another dimension, otherwise himself would have known it would happen. He was starting to feel dizzy.

“You look tired,” Eva said when he helped her wash the dishes later.

“You would, too, if you woke up in the past.”

“That’s not what this is about. Did something happen that made you not trust me, or can you talk to me? You usually tell me when you’re bothered.”

He dried his plate with a towel. 

“My student seduced me, and now he acts like it never happened, so I haven’t been sleeping so well.”

“He?”

He swore under his breath, grabbed the mug she just gave him, and dried it. 

“Vitya, are you telling me you’re gay?”

_ When did I come out? Seventeen? Eighteen? Certainly not so early. It’s okay, she won’t remember it, she said so.  _

“Yes.”

“Well, tell me about him.”

“You don’t care?”

“Did my future self say something else besides “use protection”? You do use condoms, right?”

“Mama!” He felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m not- I- yes, I do use condoms, but Yuuri and I aren’t like that, since he’s running away from me when I try to approach him. And don’t worry, you didn’t react badly, just, not as well as you did just now. You were angry at me for not telling you earlier.”

“And that’s why you should never hide anything from me. Now, I was planning on sewing your next costume, but this is more interesting. Tell me everything about this Yuuri. I’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A majority of fics give Victor a miserable childhood or at least one horrible parent - I'm guilty of that too. I want this fic to be as free of angst as possible, so Mama Nikiforova is a sweetheart.


	4. Chapter 4

“What’s with the dramatic hands?”

“Don’t know, maybe you picture yourself changing a lightbulb when you skate.”

“But it’s in every video!”

“Your future self is obsessed by the ceiling or something, I have no idea!”

“It looks stupid!”

“It looks dramatic.”

“Exactly. Look at my face. No, not mine mine, my future me’s face!”

“You think I need to look at it to know he’s an idiot?”

“Yuriiiiiii!”

An exhausted Yuuri watched the two teenagers criticize Victor’s latest program, Stammi Vicino, and truthfully, after nearly ten hours stuck in plane with them, he just wanted to pull his hair out. 

It had been a week since a young version of his coach appeared in Hasetsu and the dark-haired skater was starting to hate it. If he thought Victor was flirty, loud, shameless and couldn’t keep his hands to himself, it was nothing compared to his teenage self. Young Victor was constantly draped over him, kissing his cheeks, ruffling his hair or jumping on his back when they jogged, and didn’t seem to know what privacy meant - or why it wasn’t appropriate to steal people’s towels from around their waist in the onsen. He did it to Yuuri so many times the poor man lost count, and when he did it to Yurio, it started a fight that managed to irritate the ever-smiling, ever-patient Hiroko Katsuki.

Yuuri survived a whole week of sharing the ice with two very different kids and thought he’d had the worst of it after Victor barged into his room naked, looking for clothes, and found his posters collection which both Russians made fun of. Yuuri’s anxiety spiked for the first time since the silver-haired teen’s arrival and he hid in Minako’s ballet studio for hours. But it wasn’t the worst… no, the flight was. Yuuri just wanted to sleep, but Victor and Yurio kept talking and acting like spoiled brats until they landed. 

They were now waiting for their luggage, sitting on the floor because the conveyor belt was taking its sweet time delivering their belongings. Yurio apparently loved hearing Victor criticize himself and they were giggling hysterically together. Which would have been nice, had Yuuri not been feeling under the weather. He wished they had taken Makkachin with them, at least the dog would keep him company.

He missed _ his _ Victor. The one who knew his boundaries and was learning to respect them, who didn’t insist too much when Yuuri said no. 

An alarm rang and he jumped to his feet, collecting their luggage as soon as it came into view (Yurio’s bag was, unsurprisingly, covered in animal print and tiger stickers). The trio then made their way outside and Yuuri sighed in relief as soon as he saw Yakov Feltsman’s unimpressed and angry face. They didn’t exchange a word. A heavy tension followed them to the older man’s car and kept hovering above them for the entire ride, until they reached a manor on the outskirts of St. Petersburg. They were offered no help to carry their luggage inside, and Yuuri barely had the time to check his surroundings before he was asked to follow the older man to the living room. Footsteps and giggles faded as the teenagers ran upstairs. 

“Coffee?” Yakov grunted, and Yuuri nodded. He didn’t even like coffee, but he needed it. Some kind of alcohol would be even better. 

The living room was filled with expensive, classic European furniture. Even the sofa, coloured a tacky shade of red and gold, seemed to come straight from an antique shop and prevented anyone from slouching thanks to its uncomfortable shape. A clock ticked on top of the fireplace. It felt like a movie set.

“I thought Vitya was pranking me,” the coach started when he came back a few minutes later, sitting on a wide and ugly chair. "I hope he was, and I hope I'll wake up. This is a nightmare."

“I understand, Sir, and I apologize,” Yuuri muttered.

“Well, you didn’t summon him, how is that your fault? At least you brought Yura back. Vitya mentioned you would need coaching.”

“I know you choose your skaters and want only the best. I don’t have much to offer, but I want to try.”

He blushed at his own boldness, and thought he saw an amused glint in Yakov’s eyes.

“Normally, I wouldn’t spare you a glance, as I am a busy man. You did make it to the Grand Prix Final, so you have potential. I can’t be your long term coach, but I am willing to help you, at least until you find someone else. Hopefully Vitya comes back quickly. What am I going to do with him, every time I think it can’t get any worse, he drags me all the way back to hell.”

Just thinking about what was ahead of Yakov now that he had a pair of demon spawns around, made Yuuri feel sorry for him. He drank his coffee, wincing at the bitterness.

“You’ll live here with Vitya,” Yakov continued, surprising him. “I expect you to help him with his schoolwork, we can’t let him fall behind. When we are not at the rink, I want you and Vitya to share chores. Laundry and meals. I have someone for cleaning. As for my payment, we’ll get to it when Vitya - the older one - comes back.”

He nodded. How could he refuse? It was a golden opportunity. He was going to be trained by the best coach in the world.

“I hope you can cook, because Vitya could set fire to the kitchen just by boiling water.”

“I can. I don’t know any Russian recipes but I’ll learn. Where is Yurio- err, Yuri going to sleep?”

“Here. He’ll have extensive ballet training if my ex-wife accepts him as a student. You can go upstairs, your room is at the end of the hall, last door, next to the potted fern. Ensuite bathroom, shared with Yura. Training starts tomorrow.”

 

 

*

 

 

Yuuri wasn’t free from Victor and Yurio’s antics but, in such a large manor, it was easier to run away from them. He enjoyed a long rest in his room, which was just as tacky as the rest of the house, then took a bath and tried to keep his mind from wandering too far or he would just fall asleep again. Rested and clean, he opened his luggage and put his clothes in the wardrobe, before sending a text to his parents to let them know he was fine. He wondered if he should tell Phichit, and decided against it. He would if the situation lasted for too long.

He then set to explore the house, or at least the rooms he felt welcome in: the kitchen, strangely modern amidst the clutter of museum-worthy furniture, the library, where the TV stood, and the garden which had been abandoned if the mess of weeds and dead flowers was any indication. He stood outside until he heard the glass door rattle.

“Yuuriiiii!”

He snorted. Victor might be annoying but Yuuri still liked him, when he didn’t act like he had been raised to destroy the world.

“Yakov still had some of my clothes from when I stayed over, it's almost like he missed good young me. I brought your stuff back to your room.”

His voice sounded sweet and calm, it was the tone his older self used when he and Yuuri had a conversation in private.

“Look,” Victor sighed, moving closer, “I’m sorry for today, I think we went overboard.”

“Even the six-year-old twins behind us were quieter. You and Yurio need to think of your surroundings and your reputation.”

“I know. Hey, do you miss the other me?”

He turned around and gazed into his impossibly blue eyes, offering him a smile he hoped wouldn’t betray the fact that he was indeed a little sad. He didn’t reply, choosing instead to step back inside after brushing a long strand of hair away from Victor’s perfect face. 

“Come on, I’ll cook dinner. I’m starving.”

Victor seemed to forget what he asked him and with a grin, he followed him to the kitchen, where they checked what Yakov had bought before picking them up at the airport. The fridge was full of fresh food and a tray of sliced beef, chicken and pork attracted their attention immediately. Nabe. That would be their dinner. Yuuri hoped Yakov and Yurio would like it.

He was surprised when Victor offered to chop the vegetables and dress the table, and they exchanged smiles and jokes until it was time to eat. With Victor acting decently for once, Yuuri almost regretted they weren’t alone. He could learn a lot about his coach’s past and he was curious to know more about him. His magazines only covered his public persona, which he really didn’t care about now that he knew the real him.

Dinner went so well that Yuuri forgot how stressed he was at the idea of joining the Russian team on the rink the next day, and he even managed to enjoy Yurio and Victor coming up with ridiculous theories about where Victor’s older self had ended up and how he would cope without Instagram.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are a little bit irregular since last week but I'm still going for 2 chapters a week. It's a bit more difficult for Wishes and Thorns as it requires me to be in the "angst" mindset and makes the story harder to write, so today instead, you get one more chapter of this one!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor's crush, and his bond with Yurio, are getting stronger.

Yakov might have seemed to accept the truth when faced with young Victor, but it didn’t mean he actually believed him. For two hours, over breakfast, he questioned him, trying to find out his real identity. But he answered correctly about his locker code, the inappropriate costume he had been forbidden to wear at fifteen, and the story only the people involved could know about. The silver-haired teenager wasn’t ashamed of it. He had been going out with another skater who turned out to be fishing for scandals to sell to the press. The boy had quickly been silenced when he was reminded, harshly, that outing Victor to the world would also out the other boy, who was older and would thus not be seen as a victim. This would not bring him what he was looking for. Victor never heard of him again after that. It was his first heartbreak, a silly, innocent little thing that he quickly understood had never been love - and they didn’t even kiss ! He had just been curious and enjoyed the idea of having a boyfriend. He never actually cared for the guy, who didn’t care for him either.

The story apparently horrified Yuuri, sweet and cute Yuuri, who should definitely not be affected by something so trivial. It made Victor realize how tired he looked, now that he was allowed to pay attention to something else than Yakov’s questions. The Japanese didn’t sleep well, it was glaringly obvious, even if he smiled quite a lot today. Was it really that bad, for him to be there instead of his older self? With Yakov, Yuuri’s career wouldn’t suffer, so why did it affect him so much?

Victor wanted to hear him laugh, but the Japanese declined his offer to go shopping. Yurio, tempted by the promise of Victor’s favourite bakery, followed him without kicking the front door angrily, and they both agreed to be at the rink later. After all, Yakov would need some time to prepare the Russian team for their new rinkmates. Yuuri went with him, which bothered him slightly. 

It didn’t annoy him as much as finding out his favourite shop was now a fast food joint.

“So much for fresh cinnamon rolls,” Yurio said, smirking at his distress.

“I don’t understand! They were so good! I came here everyday after practice!”

“It’s a good thing they closed or you would look like a barrel.”

“Yuriooooo!”

“That’s not my name!”

Victor pouted, his oversized scarf hiding half of his face. It wasn’t that cold, not anymore, but he didn’t want anyone to recognize him, even though it would be highly unlikely. For everyone in the world, Victor Nikiforov was almost in his thirties, and the tiny and thin Victor who stood next to Yurio could only pass for a younger sibling, never the real thing. It was Yakov’s plan as well, have him pose as another Nikiforov to continue his training.

The teenagers headed to the nearest mall because Victor refused to go to the rink before eating a cinnamon roll, but he then complained that the ones he found were frozen and mass-produced, while Yurio rolled his eyes and wondered, aloud, how on Earth this person could be older than him, and how it was possible that young Victor could be even worse than older Victor. 

Thanks to his cinnamon roll obsession, they were already late for practice, but they found something in common in their lack of care: they both sat in the picnic area of the mall, devouring the pastries despite their already filling breakfast, using the same excuse to feel good about themselves: they were growing up and needed food.

Victor spotted an Asian family nearby and felt a slight thug in his chest. He wanted Yuuri to be with them right now, but Yuuri didn’t want to, and the teenager didn’t like it. He felt like the Japanese was avoiding him. Perhaps Yurio would know. He turned to him and gnawed on his bottom lip before breaking into a heart-shaped smile.

“Yuuuuurioooo?”

If looks could kill, he would be dead, though the only daggers Yurio’s eyes threw at him were made of marshmallows. 

“Do you think Yuuri likes me?”

“Haaa? Please. Don’t even go there.”

“He avoids me.”

“Katsudon becomes a blubbering mess every time the old you smiles at him. It’s gross and ridiculous.”

“So he hates me. Because I replaced  _ him _ .”

“This is stupid, I’m not listening to you.”

He watched Yurio as he stood up and brushed away the crumbs on his black shirt 

“What if it’s affecting my timeline?” he worried then. “What if I’m supposed to do something major in the next few days and not being there to do it means I’ll never meet Yuuri?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Yurio crouched and looked up Victor’s Wikipedia page (the silver-haired teen was delighted to see it had evolved so much and was still running). Yurio pointed at a date a week away.

“Press conference,” he read. “When we get to that day, we’ll see if the article changes. Now let’s go.”

Victor’s fingers were sticky with sugar. He followed Yurio outside, noticing now that the back of his jacket had a few holes and wondering if he should buy him a new one. A friend would do that, right? Not that he could be sure, since he always put his career first and could hardly remember the last time he had an actual friend. 

He licked his fingers clean while they walked and once they reached the rink, they both stopped abruptly, exchanging a glance, before Yurio’s usual scowl returned and Victor’s mischievous smile graced his features. He waved at Yakov, who clicked his tongue and turned his attention back to Yuuri. The young man was practicing his Eros step sequence. He had explained, back in Japan, that he needed to adapt the whole program, since he didn’t have time to polish it before older Victor was taken away from him. 

“Vitya, Yura, you don’t even have your skates on, what do you think you’re doing?” 

“Hi Yakov!”

Their coach huffed and turned his attention back to Yuuri, screaming at his when he landed a jump poorly. Instead of laughing or disregarding his words, like Victor always did, the Japanese actually asked for advice and feedback on his next attempt. Yakov’s eyebrows shot up and Yurio snickered. Of all the skaters under this man’s guidance, there had only ever been one person who listened to him: Georgi, whose overly dramatic personality sometimes hurt his performances. Seeing Yuuri so eager to learn warmed Victor’s heart. 

“He doesn’t want to disappoint the older you,” Yurio explained, lacing his skates, before entering the rink and starting his warm up. Eyes glued to Yuuri, Victor felt jealous of his older self, a feeling he immediately tried to smother by skating his heart out. Soon, he was spinning on the ice, ignoring Yakov who screamed at him to start with something less intense so he wouldn’t pull a muscle.

Thirty minutes later, Victor was given the name Ilya while the three skaters were taking a break. He hated it. Of all the names out there, Yakov just had to give him the one that reminded him of the old man who lived next to his parents’ house, a creepy, dangly creature who always grinned at him from his front porch when Victor came home from practice. The man owned a particularly vicious and spoiled cat. His legs still bore a few scars from a lazy summer afternoon, when Victor enjoyed a day off, laying in the garden under the sun, and the cat wandered over, deciding his exposed skin offended him for some reason. Even Yurio wouldn’t like the little furry ball of nope. 

Fuming about his new name, he drank most of the content of his water bottle, before the sound of high heels echoed around the rink. He cringed when he recognized their owner: Lilia Baranovskaya, former prima ballerina, and Yakov’s wife (ex-wife, if he trusted his sight, which told him neither of them wore their rings). There was no way she wouldn’t know instantly who he was either. In his own time, just a month ago, they had dinner together.

She barely spared him a glance, choosing instead to focus on Yurio, but getting distracted halfway through by a blushing Yuuri.

“Who are you, boy?”

Yurio escaped from her inquisitive gaze and moved closer to Victor while Yakov shook his head. Things were apparently not going according to plan. 

Yuuri answered her, stammering, and Victor understood his reaction when he told her he loved watching her performances when he was a child, before he started skating. He said his ballet teacher owned quite a few recordings of her shows. Lilia observed him, her eyes calculating.

“You’re still practicing ballet, aren’t you? Your posture makes it obvious.”

“Yes.”

“Mmh,” she nodded, and Victor could have sworn he saw her expression soften. “I want to see what you can do. Yuri Plisetsky, you will join us, but if I don’t like what I see, you’re out. As for your, Victor, I expect an explanation. Don’t give me this “ _ Ilya _ ” nonsense. Yakov, you’re coming too.”

"But, Lilia-"

"It was _not_ a question."

Yurio dropped his water bottle in outrage and shared Victor’s desperate and horrified glance. Lilia’s ballet studio was Victor’s personal nightmare, something his older self undoubtedly talked about to Yurio, if the shudders running down the fifteen-year-old weren't caused by the cold.   



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no description of anything in this chapter or in the story itself, and the rating won't go up, however Yurio and Victor are teenagers and with Victor's crush and his hormones going crazy, they are, and will be, discussing more adult topics as they grow closer. Just a tiny warning so you know this chapter is not the only one where that will happen.

Victor stared at the monochrome picture on the nearest wall, not because he liked it - it was Lilia on stage and her cold glare freaked him out - and not because he had never seen it before, since it had actually always been on this wall, but because it distracted him from Yuuri’s legs. Those muscular, godly thighs wrapped in tight leggings. If he looked at them, his gaze would wander upwards, and he couldn’t control the blush painting his whole face in various shades of pink. Yuuri was wearing a black leotard. His outfit enhanced the soft curves of his body.

Yuuri, Yurio and Victor were currently stretching on the floor while waiting for Lilia, who probably needed a drink after Yakov explained the young silver-haired Russian’s presence. And just as Victor chose to check which exercise his friends were doing now, Yuuri spread his legs apart and rolled his hips. He bit his lips and turned away from him. He decided, once he would be back in his own reality, that he would not wait until he was almost thirty before letting the gorgeous Japanese sweep him off his feet. He would go and find him. Well, he would wait a few years, because poor little Yuuri, in his time, was a pre-teen who didn’t need a silver-haired tornado in his life so soon. It saddened him. somehow.

He bit back a sigh as they all moved to the barre, until the unmistakable sound of Lilia’s heels made Victor’s back straighten.

She observed them like a hawk watching a prey, then asked Yuuri to show her a series of movements, her expression making it obvious that she was judging him, looking for the tiniest mistake.

“Arabesque,” she commanded after running through the basics, and Yuuri bent his back, gracefully raising his working leg behind him, an arm reaching out to touch whatever invisible being or object he imagined.

There was no way Victor could imitate him and still make it look so easy. Yurio, eager to prove himself, tried and failed, his supporting leg unsteady. 

Victor heard him huff in annoyance when Yuuri was asked to demonstrate what he could do and demonstrated a Grand Jeté that left him speechless. Was that a smile on Lilia’s face? 

“You are good, Yuuri Katsuki,” she declared as he finished a Brisé Volé and moved on to an Attitude. 

Victor’s eyes widened. He never heard her praise anyone before. Of course, Yuuri deserved it, but her reaction showed the Russian boy wasn’t blinded by his silly crush on the man. The man who, right now, was just as red as the carpet in Yakov’s bathroom.

“I will help you achieve greatness on the ice,” she continued, while Yurio looked furious, “I will teach you everything I know. Now, you,” she snapped at Victor, who suddenly wanted to vanish, “you will watch him and learn. You will follow my instructions, and when you go back to your time, you will use them and rise above everything your future self has done. If you listen to me, in your reality, you will not become a legend, but a god. Is that clear?”

Something told him he shouldn’t ignore her like he always did. He nodded, and vaguely heard her announce that Yurio would be put through hell but would become a prima ballerina who could smash any record currently in place… if he managed to be as good as Yuuri and let go of the tension in his body.

“He’s stealing my spotlight,” Yurio grumbled later, after both he and Victor were asked to leave so Yuuri could benefit from a private lesson.

They were outside the studio, sitting on a wooden bench in a pedestrian street, a bag of snacks between them and a caramel macchiato in their hands. Victor rose an eyebrow, his hair still wet from a quick shower.

“He’s a ballet dancer, right? He didn’t start with skating,” he wondered out loud. “Seems like a waste, he could be a premier danseur by now.”

“Well who do we have to blame for that, you snot-nosed brat?” Yurio hissed, and Victor let out a sincere laugh.

“You’re the snot-nosed brat!”

“Am not! Screw you!”

“Aah come on Yurio,” he whined and then, in a perfect imitation of Lilia, he added: “Foul language is unfit for a prima.”

The scowl on the blonde’s face lessened and he nearly choked on his sugary drink, trying to refrain a mocking cackle.

“Anyway,” Yurio said after coughing and managing to breathe normally, “you were disgusting in there, ogling his butt.”

“It’s a fantastic butt,” he stated.

“Oh please spare me!”

He bit into a warm bun filled with meat and unidentified vegetables while Victor finished his coffee.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot you were an innocent little virgin,” the older teen teased after choosing a bun for himself. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Tss. Look in the mirror, dumbass.”

“I’m still older than you. And I’m not a virgin.”

“I’ll let you believe that. It’s nice to live in your own head sometimes.”

Victor gave him a sideway glance and almost moaned at the taste of his meal. It had been a while since he ate any street food. When he realized that Yurio would not drop the topic, he resisted the urge to pinch the younger boy’s nose and grinned, aware of the bits of food stuck in his teeth.

“You’re just jealous,” he hummed.

“Humping your stuffed animals doesn’t count, moron.”

“You wound me, Yura!”

“You said you didn’t do anything with that pervert Yakov talked about yesterday.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t try with someone else. I can charm anyone! And I’m sure Yuuri’s great in bed.”

“URG NO SHUT UP!” Yurio screamed, moving away from him. “He thinks his Eros is a pork-cutlet bowl and you really believe he’s a sex god?”

Yurio had a point. Thoughtful, Victor asked if he knew anything he didn’t, and Yurio snorted.

“It’s pretty obvious the guy’s a blushing, anxious mess. So, either he’s a virgin too, or he can’t do shit without alcohol in his system. He humped older you’s leg and pole-danced at the banquet.”

Victor almost dropped his meat bun. So, that was what the banquet was all about. His eyes sparkled.

“Tell me you have pictures of that!”

“I do.”

“Show me!”

“I accept bribes. And you can’t tell Katsudon.”

“I’ll buy you anything you want. Brighten my life with Stripper Yuuri, O Mighty One.”

“You’re gross. Get your fap material on the web like everyone else!”

“No one has thighs like him. Did you see when he spread them earlier?”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Yurio kicked the empty coffee cup that narrowly missed the trashcan he tried to throw it in earlier, and stomped back inside Lilia’s studio, leaving Victor alone.

His crush on Yuuri was really getting out of control. Motivated by the banquet pictures he would certainly get to see, and remembering finding a few of them in his older self’s phone (a dance-off with Yurio, but that was the extent of it), he finished his bun and ran back to the third floor of the building, almost relieved to see that Yuuri’s lesson was over. The young man had showered and wore his Japan tracksuit, playing on his phone while Lilia talked to the blonde Russian about his schedule.

Yuuri smiled at him. Victor’s cheeks reddened. He had it bad.

“You were great today,” he said, because he felt like he should tell him, but he still felt stupid - of course he was great, Lilia told him so!

“Thank you Vitya.”

He swooned. Then, he was handed his own training schedule and the fluffy cloud he was floating on disintegrated. His ballet lessons started at an ungodly hour. It was even worse than in his own timeline. 7.30 AM to 10.30 AM from Monday to Thursday. The rest of the time was dedicated to skating. Which meant that, not only would he need to wake up at dawn, but he would eat breakfast without Yuuri. Throwing a tantrum was tempting. He knew Yuuri wouldn’t appreciate it, so he acted mature and didn’t complain, but the Japanese probably noticed his distress because he ruffled his hair and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go home,” his sweet voice murmured after Lilia announced she would now teach Yurio, and Victor could wait for his own session in the morning.. 

Victor almost leaned against the Japanese. He stopped himself in time.

Both of them headed back to Yakov’s manor, getting off the tram one stop before the correct one because Yuuri saw a supermarket. The Russian shouldn’t have been so excited about going grocery shopping with him, yet here he was, giddy, blushing and unbelievably happy. 

Going back to his own time would break his heart. He tried not to think about it and helped Yuuri find the ingredients he needed for their dinner - it seemed that he wanted to try making pirozhki - then pushed the cart while the Japanese checked a mental list of everything they should buy to last for the week. They giggled together at the sight of a giant potato which looked like a tortured, distorted soul, then after paying the Russian convinced Yuuri to try a vatrushka from the nearby baker. When the young man’s nose dipped into the filling, they burst out laughing and Victor used his index finger to clean it up. He was about to lick it before remembering how it would look. He wiped his finger in the paper towel Yuuri handed him instead. They hurried back home and Victor locked himself in the bathroom once the events of the day finally took their toll on him.  Damn hormones.

He could only hope Yuuri wouldn't discover how he felt. Everything was a mess. He hated and loved it at the same time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter just to show what older Victor is up to. There will be a longer one posted later today or tomorrow, it's already written.

As it turned out, Victor did not cope well without his usual social media accounts, not when he discovered the existence of a MySpace page his brain had mercifully managed to forget a long time ago. But here it was, staring at him, mocking his teenage self’s life choices, animated glitter swirling on a purple background and a friends list filled with people he never met and skaters who had long since retired. 

It took much too long to turn on the computer, and even longer to connect to the Internet. His shameful past was used as a homepage so he couldn’t escape it.

Wincing, he turned everything off, sighed, and looked at Makkachin, who was a tiny ball of neverending energy.

“At least you’re here too, mh? I wonder when I’ll go back. I miss him, you know?”

The puppy nudged his leg.

“It’s silly. That whole thing is. He’s so different from the banquet… Yurio thinks he doesn’t remember it but I think he’s just ashamed. It doesn’t matter though, I’m falling in love with him more and more every day, but he’s so distant. Maybe I tease him too much, what do you think?”

A bark answered him and he chuckled. 

“Of course you wouldn’t know, you don’t have any idea who I’m talking about.”

His mother’s voice broke his confession. 

“Vitya, are you done with Internet, I need to call your grandma!”

He smirked and confirmed he had disabled it. Ah, the joys of dial-up. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t somehow appreciate being back home. The familiar smell of lavender lingering in the hallway brought back so many memories, and he couldn’t get enough of his old pillow, or his mother’s cooking. It didn’t mean he wanted to stay. Hasetsu was just as nice, and it had his beautiful Yuuri, who didn’t smell like lavender but like citrus and something else that was entirely Yuuri. But for now, enjoying some family time would do.

As the days passed, he found himself laughing more and more with his father at the dinner table, the older man proud of his son’s stupid jokes. As a teen, he never spent more time than necessary in his parents’ presence, and left home early to move in with Yakov and be closer to the rink. Catching up felt good, even if he would be the only one to remember it in the end. 

Restless, he left his room and joined his parents in the kitchen.

“I’m making soup, you can help,” his mother said with a smirk after hanging up the phone. 

He diced a bunch of mixed vegetables while his father dressed the table. 

“So, about that boy, Vitya, how are you going to redeem yourself? You really showed up naked at his house?” his father hummed, still bewildered by the information his wife told him.

“Hot springs, not house. He ran to me! You can’t blame me for being naked when I bathe. If he entered the bathroom during my shower it would have been the same thing.”

“You didn’t have to stand up.”

He groaned and regretted sharing the details of his first day in Japan.

“You should do something for him,” his mother added wisely.

“He freaks out when I get close to him-”

“Do you even  _ know _ how clingy you can be? You’re just like your dad.”

“Hey!”

“Yulian, if you break that plate you’re buying a whole new set, and not with our joint account.”

Victor snorted. He never appreciated those moments before. He envied his parents and hoped Yuuri would be the one to bring this sweet domesticity in his life.

“Anyway,” Eva continued, salting the boiling water, “you could surprise him with something more thoughtful. Take the time you have here to prepare a gift to show him how much he means to you.”

She was right - of course she was - and Victor kept quiet until the vegetables were cut properly. At some point, his father ruffled his hair and told him he should be prepared to spend months with them, so whatever he thought of could also be something that took time to be ready. He groaned at the thought of his young self messing up in his timeline for such a long time. What if, upon waking up in Japan, he just went back to Russia and left Yuuri behind? 

“Don’t look so down,” his father sighed, a hand squeezing his shoulder. “Trust yourself a bit more, I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m just-” _ scared _ . Yes, he was terrified of losing Yuuri, who was still not opening up to him, but who did say he wanted to share his favourite meal with him. It meant something, it had to. He shook his head. “I think I should prepare something incredible just so I can repair any damage I did.”

“What does he like?” Eva wondered aloud, stirring the soup slowly. 

“Learn to cook,” Yulian piped up at the same time.

He rose an eyebrow. Victor, as a teenager, had been a disaster in the kitchen. As an adult, he could prepare simple meals but didn’t bother learning specific recipes, he was too busy. But for Yuuri… what if Victor could prepare katsudon? It would be ironic after he prevented him from eating it, but there would hopefully be enough special occasions warranting a bowl of the Japanese skater’s favourite food.

“Can I take lessons?” he asked, aware that he had no accessible money in this timeline.

“Remember,” his father answered, “all of this will be forgotten, but not by you, and once you’re gone, we’ll be back to the day you appeared here. We’ll pay for anything you need.”

His eyes shone as ideas struck him one after the other.

“Then, I also want to learn Japanese and I want to take some training in coaching.”

His parents chuckled and Victor felt like things might not be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had dial up until late 2005. It was torture. I remember when the first teaser for SW:Revenge of the Sith came out, I was so excited that I asked for permission to use the Internet until it loaded.  
> It took 2.5 hours.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't miss the previous chapter in case Ao3 doesn't notify you since it sometimes bugs out when you post more than one chapter a day :P

It seemed like whoever, or whatever, decided to send Victor to the future intended to keep him there for as long as they could. Summer in St. Petersburg was great, much nicer than the insanely hot and humid weather plaguing Japan during and after the rainy season, according to Yuuri, and the Japanese spent his free time outside in the garden, reading books, playing games on his laptop, or talking with Phichit. Things were… fine. They could have been great, if Yuuri didn’t hear Victor discuss the shape of his butt with Yurio a month ago. The Japanese distanced himself after that, for a short time. Victor understood it made him feel uncomfortable and respected his wish to stop the long hugs the Russian was so fond of. It hurt a bit. Yurio kept reminding him that he was an idiot, that Yuuri was confused and just wanted the older Victor back, and that he was probably scared. Scared to realize that if young Victor found him so attractive, his older self might, too. Yuuri’s lack of confidence blinded him. He wouldn’t have noticed anything if he didn’t hear it. Yurio told the silver-haired teen how oblivious he was. If older Victor waved a sign saying  _ I Love You Yuuri! _ , Yuuri would still think he was dreaming, or being made fun of.

This new knowledge, while difficult to accept, worsened Victor’s feelings, because it made Yuuri even cuter. Something shifted in early August however; Yuuri finally understood his Eros program, and demonstrated a new side of himself that made Victor blush furiously and Yurio groan in disgust. 

Lilia’s harsh training not only transformed Yurio into a majestic creature who easily rivaled Victor in beauty and talent, but it also built Yuuri’s confidence, thus helping with his jumps which always suffered from his nerves, and changing his gestures into something feminine that suited him incredibly well. 

Victor understood the famous ballerina’s goal and methods: show Yuuri he was good enough. The Japanese was a much better dancer than both Yurio and Victor. Lilia’s praise, though rarely expressed verbally, showed in the way she treated him and looked at him, and little by little, her plan worked. Yuuri found himself teaching both teens when their ballet sessions overlapped, under Lilia’s guidance. In exchange, Yurio and Victor worked with him on his jumps.

Yuuri wasn’t gifted like them, but his hard work paid off. Yakov, thankful for the respectful student he now had, coached him in a way similar to Lilia: unforgiving. It worked. By now, Yuuri’s quad salchow was perfect and he looked more relaxed and happier on the ice. Victor’s current programs, that he learnt from watching videos of his slightly future self, would never bring him gold if Yuuri and Yurio were both competing with him back in his own time. He would be beaten by the programs his older self created. 

Yurio’s Agape was perfect and he was trying to make it even harder. His free skate, choreographed by Lilia, always left him breathless and still needed a lot of work, its insane difficulty making Victor glad he only had to work on “old” programs (new for him, but still). Yakov did turn them into more complicated routines and the young Russian hoped he would be back in his timeline soon enough to perform them and bring the judges down to their knees. Then there was Yuuri’s free skate, a love story filled with bitterness, warmth and longing, in which he stubbornly and unsuccessfully tried to place a quad flip. Yakov scolded him several times and warned him not to even think about attempting it in the upcoming Japanese Nationals.

Yuuri’s determination cost him a week of training after a bad fall. On the last day of his recovery, a sunny and warm Sunday morning, Victor found him napping on a seater hammock in the garden, dressed in cropped pants and a wrinkled t-shirt. Even on their days off, since they arrived in Russia, neither of them could sleep in, their bodies too used to their usual rhythm. The teenager placed a bowl of berries on a small table and unfolded a chair next to Yuuri. His hair was still braided from the previous night - he always tied it loosely or it would tangle in his sleep - and he didn’t bother getting dressed, wearing pajama shorts instead. Yurio would come back later after spending some time with his grandfather, and Yakov was sleeping. Being alone with Yuuri made Victor nervous.

Just as he was about to put on a hat and let the sun lull him back to sleep, the Russian saw Yuuri stir.

“Hi,” he said, giving him his glasses when he noticed him struggling to find them.

Yuuri blinked, pushing the glasses on his nose, then grinned.

“Hi Vitya.”

Should he say something? He wanted to talk to him, but was scared he would regret it. He weighed his options, interrupted when Yuuri asked if he was alright. Victor nodded, then lowered his gaze.

“I’m sorry for what I said to Yurio.”

“You’re still hung up on that? Vitya, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I made you uncomfortable and I don’t know when to stop, I’m insensitive and I keep hurting you!”

Yuuri bit his lips in a way that always made Victor want to coo, and he sat up, the hammock moving with him. 

“I’m just not used to being admired. But I think I like you better when you don’t restrain yourself. You don’t seem to have that much fun with Yurio anymore.”

“We’re all getting busier,” Victor acknowledged. “I also don’t want to be heard again.”

“Would it bother you that much?”

“If I’m gushing about you, yes! It’s not like I can have you or anything.”

It was too easy to talk to Yuuri. He winced at his sudden confession but only received a gorgeous smile in response. He melted.

“Why would you want me?”

“I think- I think I’m- No, forget it.”

Yuuri rose and moved towards him, and Victor froze when he kissed his hair. The Japanese then kneeled down in the grass by his side, his palm resting on the Russian’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry. Talk to me only if you want to.”

“You only think about older me, and I know I can’t do anything about it, and that it will happen to me eventually, and even if we weren’t from different timelines you would never want me because I’m just a kid and you’re so much better than I am-”

They stared at each other. Shocked by his own outburst, Victor cursed himself. It was unlike him to confess his feelings, even more when he was hurting, and it was such a beautiful day and he ruined it for both of them. Yuuri seemed too afraid to move, before his features softened.

“Find me in your timeline, alright? I’ll be a mess, be warned!”

He wanted to cry, but just laughed.

“How different is older me?”

“I don’t know him that much yet, since you took his place so early. He’s just like you, but he doesn’t seem too happy and he’s acting weird with me sometimes.”

_ Of course he doesn’t look happy, if he fell in love with you and you don’t remember it,  _ he thought, then chewed on his lower lip, an idea buzzing in his head.

“I think I know something but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Yuuri’s fingers traced circles on his arm, giving him goosebumps, his eyes sparkling with interest. With a deep breath, Victor closed his eyes, forgot that Yurio made him promise to keep quiet, and blurted out:

“DoyourememberthebanquetbecauseYuriothinksyoudon’t.”

“The… yes, I remember. I was depressed and alone and I drank some champagne. It was boring.”

“Nope.”

He proceeded to tell him about the dance off, the pole (Yuuri whimpered and turned away at that point) and finally, the tango, and he showed him the pictures and videos on his older self’s phone (Yurio sent him the ones he had taken). Yuuri refused to look, at first, then his curiosity won and he said he wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it. He mumbled incoherently in Japanese until he saw one picture from the tango: him dipping Victor, holding his leg, touching his face, both of them smiling like they were the happiest men in the world. It was also young Victor’s favourite.

Victor sighed and took the phone from him.

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be smiling like that if you meant nothing to me,” he spoke softly. “To old me, I mean. Ah, this is confusing. Just looking at this I know exactly that I-that HE, fell in love with you that day.”

Yurio was right. Yuuri needed to have it spelled out to understand. The beautiful man crumpled his shirt between his fingers, gaping at him.

“He… what?”

“He’s in love with you. He loves you. You. Yuuri. He would never - _ I  _ would never show up unannounced at someone’s house, then give him all these innuendos if we didn’t have a history together, I’m not a pervert and I’m not crazy. But I do get crushes very easily. One more thing: your Eros program. Skate like you want to seduce him. I’m pretty sure that’s what he wants and you're on the right track now.”

He then listed everything Yuuri had told him about his older self’s behavior, and his reaction to being given the banquet room to sleep in. By the time he was finished, Yuuri looked overwhelmed.

“So… so all this time, I was breaking his heart? He must think I played with his feelings! What do I do, Vitya?”

Victor forgot he was just a sixteen-year-old boy. He forgot he was so stressed out he actually stuttered earlier, and he forgot he was sad. It felt good to be asked for advice. He grinned, his heart-shaped smile apparently calming Yuuri down slightly.

“Yuuuriiiii! You tell him everything. As soon as he comes back. You think about what he means to you. I’m really bad at reading people so don’t give him hints because he’s going to misunderstand. You know him, mostly, because you know me and you just said I didn’t change much. If I’m sadder when I’m older, then just make me smile more.”

“Can you make young me happy too?” Yuuri’s voice sounded shy. 

Victor fell from his chair on purpose and hugged him tightly, and this time, Yuuri responded. After weeks without affectionate embraces, Victor didn’t want to let go. Of course he would make young Yuuri happy.

_ Can I go back, now?   
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope he's not going back yet :P


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: teenagers discussing sex/visiting an adult website. Nothing graphic is described. If you do want to skip this chapter, you can, it's used to show more of Victor and Yurio's friendship.

Sometimes, Victor felt like he was living a double life. His relatively mature self who tried to help Yuuri believe in himself was completely different from the chirpy, annoying boy he was in Yurio’s presence. It suited him. Acting goofy with someone his age was a great bandaid for his painful unrequited crush, and lately he spent most of his time with him. Today was no different.

Finding a comfortable position between Yurio’s mountain of pillows (it was a fort. They just didn’t want to accept that they actually built one at their age), he pressed _Enter_ on the keyboard.

 

_Katsuki Yuuri_

About 353,000 results (0.30 seconds)

 

“Mh, what about that one?”

“You’re not checking a porn website on my computer!”

“But-”

“Victor, no.”

“It’s fanart! I just want to see!”

“Fine, if you buy me that jacket we saw yesterday.”

“Deal.”

Victor squealed and opened the page. The goal was not to find adult content and satisfy his curious mind, but to learn everything he could about Yuuri, and the link was near the top of his search results. Of course he would want to check it out. For science.

Yuuri was currently in Japan with Lilia, getting ready for the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship, so the teenagers spent more time together at home than usual, their ballet sessions canceled until their teacher came back. Their days were shared between skating and more free time they ever had, because Yakov was concentrating on Mila and Georgi, whose assignments for the Grand Prix approached faster than Yurio’s.

Victor started browsing the gallery.

“Ewww!” Yurio screamed, turning away from the screen.

“You didn’t have to LOOK!”

“Again, that’s MY computer, and it’s KATSUDON! I need eye bleach!”

“It’s just art.”

_Very, very well drawn art_ , he thought, his cheeks on fire, before stumbling upon a category he wasn’t expecting. The pictures so far, all by the same artist, showed Yuuri alone, but the ones he just found were Yuuri with... _him_. Some even featured him with his long hair. He frowned as a detail caught his attention.

“How do they know I have a scar there?!”

“Nude photoshoot,” Yurio grumbled. “You nearly killed Yakov, and the Russian Skating Federation was outraged.”

“Makes sense.”

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN DISGUSTED? AT YOURSELF? AT THESE FANS? HOW CAN YOU LOOK AT THIS?”

“Well, they’re idealizing stuff, I’m pretty sure Yuuri’s not that big when he’s erect.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“You know you can leave, right? You’re complaining a lot for someone who looks so interested.”

Yurio kicked his slipper to the floor but instead of jumping off the single bed they were both sitting on, he grabbed a bag of chips and furiously munched on them.

“I’m just staying so you don’t do gross things on my bed with MY-”

“Your computer, yes, I got it. Damn, that one is…”

“Ew, why would anyone do that?”

“I’ve done it.”

Yurio was half-disgusted, half-fascinated, if Victor trusted his expression.

“It tastes like-”

“I DIDN’T ASK! YOU’RE THE WORST!”

“Shut up and think about the jacket.”

He exited the gallery once he realized looking at it had an effect on him, and he squirmed slightly, trying to ignore it. If Yurio noticed, he kept quiet, and the older teen thanked him silently. Victor then followed the link to a reputable fansite. He wanted to make sure he could find Yuuri once he went back to his own time, and intended to memorize everything about him.

The fansite had a “rumours” section that interested him more than the profile, which was filled with confirmed information. Victor needed obscure hearsays, suspicious sources, anything that could not be taken seriously. He was pretty sure he could find out what was actually real. He could just ask Yuuri, but Yuuri was in Japan, and Victor was impatient.

From his initial findings, he knew where Yuuri went to middle and high school. Anyone could have picked one of the schools in Hasetsu and decided he had been a student there, but it was a start. If he came back to his own time around the time he left, he could see Yuuri on stage in a regional dance competition. If he came back later, in autumn, he could watch him in a school play (well, he supposedly played a tree, but it was still Yuuri). If any of these public appearances were true, it would give Victor many occasions to drop by if he could even convince his parents. He could also wait until he was eighteen, but it would be creepier to follow a fourteen-year-old around Japan as a legal adult than it would be as a teenager. He also needed to keep in mind the time when Yuuri apparently discovered him.

“This is too complicated!” he whined, then stole the bag of chips from Yurio’s lap.

“Just wait until his first international competition.”

“But I want to see what he can do if he pursues ballet!”

They had tested the effect of Victor’s absence from the past already and knew nothing changed because of it, so talking about changing something important didn’t make them cringe anymore. Victor smirked when he noticed Yurio’s strangely absent expression.

“Yuriooo, would you be sad for your other self if you never got to skate on the same ice as him?”

“ARE YOU STUPID? You can’t just decide what you want him to become! If he doesn’t skate, he won’t need your coaching.”

“But he won’t need it if we meet right away. If he decides to be a skater, I can help him.”

“HA. Help him? Please. I don’t care anymore. You’re going to mess up. You should wait until he’s completely obsessed with you.”

Victor pouted and buried his face in the soft bed sheets. Why was everything so hard?

“By the way, you know you’ll have to wait ages to have him, right?”

Victor froze and mumbled a string of insults under his breath, the sheets muting his words. Yurio kept poking his ribs and the silver-haired teen yelped when a finger dug too deep. He glared at the other boy.

“You really think I was going to do anything?!” He was actually angry at the implication. “Of course I’ll wait, whatever happens! Even if I meet him when he’s old enough I’ll wait until he’s ready! I can’t believe you!”

“Well excuse me for doubting your intentions when you were just drooling at pictures of his dick!”

“IT WAS ADULT YUURI!”

He jumped off the bed, nearly knocking off the computer and stomped out of the room, fuming, while Yurio reminded him, voice dripping with sarcasm, that he would be lying to Yuuri for years if he pretended to be just friends with him. Nothing good could come from a "friendship" that was based, from the start, on an unrequited hope for a future relationship.

He slammed the door to his room and crouched in a corner. As much as he hated hearing it, Yurio was right. The only thing Victor should do would be to get Yuuri under Yakov’s training instead of Celestino's, or give him enough confidence so that his nerves would never get the better of him. He suddenly wished he wouldn’t remember any of this when he went back home.

His cheeks were wet now. He bit back his sobs and mentally cursed everything that brought him here.

Only a few minutes later, he heard a knock, and didn’t say a word. The door opened slowly and the blonde Russian walked in, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. Victor kept his eyes on the floor even when Yurio put the mug between his feet and sat next to him.

The tension between them wasn’t as awkward as it could have been, but neither of them talked. Victor felt pathetic.

Yurio was abrasive and short-tempered, but underneath his tough glares, Victor saw beauty and softness. He cared, he just hated showing it.

They still hadn’t said a word when both their mugs were left empty. At some point, Victor fell asleep, and when he woke up briefly after an hour, he realized he was using Yurio’s lap as a pillow. The boy’s fingers were tangled in his long silver hair. Victor closed his eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this story is writing itself (ノдヽ)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it's a new chapter again! I'm on a roll!  
> You might have noticed I said Yuuri was competing in the Nationals in the previous chapter, I corrected this now, I mistook it for the CSK Championship.  
> You also probably saw that I have 14 chapters planned - fear not: look at what else I just added: this is now a series :P  
> \---  
> POV switch in the middle.

A gold medal in the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship wasn’t a first for Yuuri, but it certainly came as a huge relief after his disastrous series of competitions before he went back to Hasetsu. It also meant he could actually participate in the Grand Prix, and it had been a close call after he flubbed his quad toe loop because he got distracted. When he stepped into the living room, he found Victor and Yurio playing Rayman Legends, screaming and giggling because they chose characters who were almost identical and kept confusing them, resulting in death for the one who was left behind. Victor was incredibly bad at jumping. It made Yuuri smirk.

He stood behind the couch, waiting until they reached the end of the area they were currently in. They probably played all week because Yuuri didn’t remember reaching this level yet, having only played occasionally. Yurio’s character died after jumping into a pool of acid and the teen growled, his character now transformed into a bubble with flailing arms, floating uncontrollably behind Victor who refused to revive him.

“Come ON! Just slap me!” he raged, because it was that easy to turn him back into his functioning character.

“Nope, I like the bubble, you look hilarious.”

“VICTOR!”

Yuuri couldn’t refrain a chuckle, and Yurio immediately paused the game. A second later, Victor was hugging him. The Japanese returned the embrace.

“You're back! You got gold! It was beautiful! I’m so happy!”

“You sucked,” Yurio snarled. “What the hell was that toe loop?”

“Yuuuuuri! Join us? Yurio keeps pushing me and I die, I need your protection!”

“Don’t ask him that or he’ll just choose the same character as us and it will get even more confusing!”

Victor let go of him and pursed his lips in an adorable pout. Yuuri just shook his head. He was too tired to play or even talk, but he missed both of them and didn’t want to go to sleep until he could say hi. He had to admit he really enjoyed watching them having fun together and seeing them accept each other’s antics so easily.

“I’ll go to bed,” he said, and Victor whined. “Really, I need to sleep.”

“Great. Leave us, Katsudon. We’ll just starve.”

“Yurio, you can’t expect him to cook now! He’s jetlagged!”

Yuuri didn’t stop smiling, simply patting Victor’s back before leaving them alone. He went to the bathroom first, knowing that if he stepped into his room, he would just fall on his bed and start snoring. A shower helped him feel slightly better but his moves were still sluggish when he brushed his teeth and put on his pajama. He realized it had been in his suitcase and smelled like the plane, so he took it off again, wrapped his hips in a towel and tiptoed down the hall until he reached his small room. 

He didn’t remember what he did after reaching the door. When he woke up, he was under his blanket and birds were chirping outside his window. He felt surprisingly well rested. 

After staying in the warm cocoon of his bed for thirty minutes, he finally listened to his stomach and stood up with a yawn, putting on slippers and noting that he did at least put on a clean pajama before crashing on his pillow. He stretched. A quick trip to the bathroom refreshed him and when his nose caught the scent of food, he walked towards the kitchen, remembering that it was Sunday and no one would go to the rink today.

When he pushed the door open, he found Yurio braiding Victor’s hair.

“Morning,” he greeted, surprised. 

The blonde’s hands stilled, his glare daring him to say something, anything, about what he was currently doing, but he resumed his work once Yuuri ignored him and looked at the contents of the pan on the stove.

His stomach growled loudly. He hadn’t eaten meat for breakfast in a while and the sausages looked and smelled delicious. He suspected Yurio was responsible for them, because nothing was burning. Rye bread was already on the table. He prepared black tea after being informed by a sleepy Victor that Yakov went out and would only be back in the evening.  

The braid done, Yurio cracked his knuckles and checked the pan. Seemingly satisfied, he cut the sausages and served them. They all added butter to the bread, Yuuri deciding he could have a cheat day sometimes. Yurio blushed when they thanked him.

“I’ll make Katsudon today,” Yuuri announced proudly. “I won, after all!”

Victor placed his hand on top of his, a gorgeous smile gracing his angelic face. Yuuri didn't flinch. Somehow, he knew it was innocent. more than usual, but it still weirded him out.

“I’m so glad I didn’t cause you to screw up,” Victor sighed.

Yurio rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have this medal if you didn’t bring me to Russia, Vitya. I know you want to go home, maybe you wish you never came to our time, and you know I want the older you here too, but I’m so happy to have met you.”

“I- Thank you, Yuuri.”

Victor let go of his hand and lowered his eyes, eating silently, probably trying to hide his emotions. Yurio looked about to say something but apparently decided it would be wiser to keep his mouth shut. Yuuri heard them arguing in Russian later, when he was relaxing in the living room, but it couldn’t be serious, since when he saw Yurio afterwards, Victor had apparently braided his hair as well. Better not meddle in teenagers’ business. 

 

 

*

 

 

“I’ll crush you, the podium is mine, you hear me?!”

“Don’t forget your gloves.”

It was still hilarious to let Yurio vent, even after all this time. Yuuri was unaffected by his insults and screams, and they amused Victor, who was currently overseeing the preparations for his friends’ trip to Moscow. Spotting Yakov nearby now that he found his car keys, the silver-haired Russian made puppy eyes at him.

“Stop doing that, Vitya, I said no.”

“But it’s unfair!”

“That’s final.”

Both Yuuri and Yurio were about to participate in the Rostelecom Cup. It was currently difficult to know which one of them had a higher chance of getting gold, because both skaters were incredible, their level much higher than young Victor’s. It made him want to go with them even more, to feel the thrill of the competition together. Unfortunately, he would have to settle for a crappy TV coverage, all alone in St.Petersburg. Yakov entrusted his house to him for the next few days, giving him a few days off and forbidding him to go to the rink because he just knew he would attempt quads. The rebel in him wanted to go; the lovestruck fool decided to listen to Yuuri, who echoed their coach’s words. He was also asked to avoid the kitchen at all cost and was given a list of reputable and healthy restaurants that would deliver his meals.

Yurio yelled about the cold as he dragged his bags outside. It would start snowing soon. Yuuri nervously checked his suitcase, becoming frantic when he couldn’t find his free skate costume, so Victor wrapped his arms around him until he calmed down. He knew it worked well. 

The Japanese’s breathing went back to normal shortly after, his nose buried in the crook of the teen’s neck. When he stepped back, Victor drowned himself in the man’s sweet gaze and gave his upper arm a squeeze. In this moment, he felt older, and he liked it.

“Your costume is under your tracksuit, remember? You’ll be alright. I’ll be proud of you even if you don’t win.”

Yuuri kneeled down and checked his bag thoroughly, finding his costume immediately now that his panic was gone.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“No worries. Come on. You’ll be great. I’ll cheer for you.”

“Thank you.”

Victor hesitated, then moved closer again, and his lips met Yuuri’s, for the softest kiss he ever shared with anyone.

He winked then, leaving Yuuri red-faced and wide-eyed.

“Don’t look too much into it,” he confessed. “It’s for good luck.”  _ In case I disappear while you’re gone _ , he added mentally. 

He watched him run after Yurio when Yakov barked about missing their flight, and he closed the door and locked it as the car left the driveway.

Checking the list of restaurants his coach printed for him, he laughed, put it next to the phone, and called his favourite pizzeria. 

Tonight, he would be irresponsible. Pizza, ice cream and soda would soothe his broken heart, and he would even sleep in Yuuri’s bed, to feel less alone (and because his mattress was better than his own).

He hated acting like this, mind shrouded in a weird melancholy that was so alien to his cheerful nature. He missed his parents, his room and his dog (Makkachin was still with the Katsuki family since Yakov refused to have a dog in his house, but he missed the puppy version of him). 

There was no need to dwell on his emotions any further. He chose a movie from Yurio’s collection, paid for his food when it arrived, and prepared himself to spend his first evening all by himself, doing nothing. Which was a pretty awesome program for someone who rarely had the time to be lazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I robbed Phichit of his gold medal :P sorry :P  
> Chapter 11 is already being written \o/
> 
> If you never played Rayman Legends you have to. I never laughed so much in a co-op game before, especially the music levels. The bubble with flailing arms is what happens to your character when you die, their body turns into a transparent bubble with only a head, tiny arms and tiny feet. If you play alone you explode and start over, if you play with someone you just float around until the other player slaps you.  
> I can absolutely picture these dorks playing it.


	11. Chapter 11

When he woke up, Victor felt like he had been hit by a truck. His limbs ached and his right arm was numb. He didn’t want to open his eyes, he was so tired after celebrating his mother’s birthday. Too much food, too much alcohol. It had been great but he probably fell asleep on the couch or another uncomfortable spot, because he was laying on something that had no resemblance with a mattress.

Then the  _ something  _ moved and he jumped back, legs tangled up with someone else’s and pajama too tight.

His breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened and he gasped loudly, just as loudly as the other Victor currently panicking in the single bed they apparently shared.

“WHAT?!” they both yelled. And they stared.

Young Victor suddenly sighed and groaned about not being back and things being ridiculous now, throwing his hands up in the air then grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. The older version of him peeled off the pajama from his body, wrapped himself in the blanket, and tried to assess their situation. 

They were in his room in Yakov’s home, he would recognize the crack in the wall even in a hundred years. They were also in his own timeline, if he trusted the smartphone and wallet on the desk, but he needed to be sure. 

“Please tell me this is 2016.”

“Unfortunately it is. Why am I still there? Why did we swap clothes again?”

Victor felt a headache starting to bloom at his temples and just shrugged, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart was beating right now: 2016.  _ Yuuri _ . What happened? Why was his younger self in Russia? He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer but he had to ask. 

“Please tell me you didn’t leave Yuuri alone in Hasetsu.”

The long-haired teen finally removed the pillow from his face and glared at him in a way that reminded him of Yurio.

“Yuuri is at the Rostelecom Cup with Yurio, he got gold in the Cup of China,” he stated. 

_ He’s skating. He’s doing it. He got GOLD. _ There was no word to describe the depth of Victor’s relief.

“He’s alright,” his young self continued. “Could be better, he misses you. I brought him back here to train with Yakov and Lilia. He’s the best dancer and he can do a quad salchow now. He lands it every time. He’s Lilia’s assistant sometimes. Also I used your credit card. I’m not sorry.”

Now he was smiling. It was the proud grin he displayed when he disobeyed Yakov and succeeded in doing something the man told him not to do. Like a quad when he wasn’t looking. Victor didn't care if his money was being used, he doubted the kid actually spent it on anything outrageous. He knew himself. As an adult, he made ridiculous expenses, but as a teen he was careful.

“So, you know Yurio? You know what, tell me everything from the beginning, because I can’t think right now.”

Each new piece of information came as a shock, from Yuuri’s blooming talent to the three skaters living under the same roof and sharing chores. Yurio and his younger self were friends. Yuuri cooked for them most nights. They played games and went shopping and trained and lazed around together. And Makkachin was in Japan. Victor’s jaw tensed.

“You left him there? You abandoned him?”

“I’m sorry, alright?” his young self winced. “He’s with the Katsukis, well-cared for, and I often Face-time him! I know I’m a horrible person but Yakov refused to have him here. What was I supposed to do? He didn’t want us to live at your place either, and Yuuri wouldn’t have felt comfortable with it anyway.”

Victor’s headache grew stronger. Of course, his teenage self had done the right thing in this situation, but he felt terrible about it. He grabbed his wallet, careful not to flash the kid if the blanket slid off his shoulders, and bit his lower lip when he saw his passport.

“I’m going to Japan,” he decided. 

“You'll live in your apartment when you come back?” 

“Well... can you imagine Yakov’s reaction if he suddenly had two Victors under his roof?”

He booked a flight on his phone, eager to see his dog again. His young self snorted.

“Are you taking Yuuri, too?”

A frown marred his forehead. That was a good question. But why did the teen look so emotional? He thought he knew the answer, and hoped he was wrong. He nodded and told him he would like to share his apartment with Yuuri if Yuuri accepted. The younger boy lowered his gaze, joking that Yurio would throw a fit and they would all miss his cooking - and Victor got a confirmation of his doubts in the way he clutched the pillow. He knew himself after all.

“Do you have feelings for him?” he asked carefully.

“...You should know, you’re crazy about him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Yurio. And it’s so easy to like him.”

At that, Victor smiled and jumped up and down on the bed, still sitting. It apparently baffled the other Victor.

“You’re still the same. Yuuri told me but wow, you’re like a kid!”

“Speak for yourself, brat. Now, tell me, what did Yuuri do to make you fall for him? Me, it was at the banquet-”

“I know everything about the banquet, thank you very much! And I don’t know, he’s just being him? He’s sweet and gorgeous and shy and adorable! He’s always encouraging me, he works hard, he smells good and when he sleeps he makes this tiny little noise with his nose and it’s so damn cute!”

Knowing that he had seen him sleep made the older Victor cringe slightly, remembering the harsh refusal he received when he asked for a sleepover. Immediately after, he felt ashamed of his reaction. Was he jealous of himself? He knew Yuuri was a fan, had known that before the Grand Prix, but what if he preferred him with long hair? Looking at himself from an outsider’s perspective, he really was a beautiful boy at sixteen, even with bed hair. He spotted two pimples near his lips but they would vanish soon. Puberty had been kind to him, only manifesting itself a few times. He never had to live through disgusting eruptions all over his face. Yurio, with his flawless skin, might be just as lucky.

Wouldn’t Yuuri prefer a pretty young thing instead of a balding, aging man who could sometimes feel an unwelcome ache in his knees?

“Stop it.”

His eyes met young Victor’s. He stopped fiddling with his hair, something he always did when he convinced himself it was thinning (it was not).

“You’re doing the same thing Dad does when he’s nervous,” the teen explained. “I’m sure you think you’re losing your hair or something. You’re not, I’m glad to see that, so when I'm your age I won’t be scared of it. Speaking of hair, why did you cut it?”

“I wanted a change. I kept it the same way for a very long time. No drama or stupid bet.” He clenched his fist and decided to go all out: “Did you try anything with Yuuri, at all?”

A blush spread on the young boy’s cheeks.

“I kissed him.”

“WHY?”

“Calm down,” the long-haired skater sighed. “It was for good luck. Yesterday. I have the biggest crush on him and he doesn’t look at me like that. All he sees is a kid. He admires me but he misses you so much. You’re the one he wants. He thinks about you all the time. I have no hope whatsoever and I just want to go home.”

There it was again, that expression he knew so well, the one he had when he tried to keep himself together. The older man wanted to hug him. He didn’t do it. At this age, he hated physical contact when he felt under the weather, a vivid contrast with his usual affectionate gestures.

“Alright,” he said after a short silence, checking his phone. “My flight leaves soon. I’m taking the phone and wallet.”

“S’fine, I have cash from Yakov. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not.”

When the bedroom door closed behind him and Victor realized he was still decent only because of the blanket, he groaned, found Yuuri’s room with his young self’s help, and borrowed his clothes. They were too small for him, but they would do, at least until he could go to his apartment. He just hoped he still had something in his wardrobe, after sending most of his belongings to Hasetsu.

 

 

*

 

 

No one understood what happened and Victor couldn’t explain it. Yuuri’s family wasn’t as fluent in English as the young man, it was actually rather surprising they would speak it at all if he remembered his previous encounters in the country correctly. Telling them about time travel and expecting any sort of understanding would be impossible.

If they were confused about his presence and the mystery surrounding his younger self’s visit a few months back (followed by his own self’s disappearance), the Katsukis hid it well. They welcomed him with open arms once again, fed him Katsudon, let him sleep in the banquet room - still filled with the furniture he bought - and told him to enjoy the hot springs. Victor felt like he belonged there.

And there was Makkachin. He couldn’t get enough of his poodle, spending every minute of his day with him to apologize for leaving him alone. The dog didn’t seem angry with him. Overjoyed was a good description for his current behavior. It left both pet and owner exhausted in the early evening, and they were both snoring by the time the sun set. 

The next morning was incredibly busy for Victor, who packed up most of his belongings and asked Mari to help him send them back to Russia in a few weeks: he wanted to talk to Yuuri first. If the young man wanted to go home, and wanted him there, he would follow. He hoped Yuuri would stay in Russia. From the videos he watched in the plane, recorded during practice and at the Cup of China, the Japanese skater was getting the training he deserved with Yakov. It hurt a little to admit that Victor would perhaps not have brought him to such heights so fast.

After making sure Makkachin could travel, he grabbed his favourite clothes and filled two suitcases with them. He paid Yuuri’s parents handsomely for letting him use their house as storage for so long and for continuing to do so until he had a definite answer, and eventually left the inn. Traveling in First Class would be a huge plus for his flight tonight, because he was starting to be too exhausted to think clearly. He really needed to sleep, because he wasn’t traveling back to St. Petersburg. He was going to Moscow.

He just hoped he would be there in time to watch Yuuri and Yurio compete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there :D


	12. Chapter 12

Yuuri looked at the roster in disbelief. He was skating last, today. He beat Yurio. He beat everyone. His Eros program had been perfect.

Yakov seemed about to blow up from mixed feelings. On one hand he was immensely proud of his respectful student, on the other he wanted Yurio to win this, because he was Yurio, and because he was Russian. Yuuri beat the teenager by only a fraction of a point. Nothing was set in stone yet: Jean-Jacques Leroy, Yurio’s arch nemesis, was a danger to them both with his free skate, they knew that from Yurio’s first assignment. The biggest enemy though, was Yuuri’s nerves.

Competing in Russia was tough. People knew Victor left the country to coach him and they had been left in the dark after the cancellation of Onsen on Ice. They blamed Yuuri. Rumours flooded social media, getting increasingly darker as time went by: Victor was inactive on his social media accounts. He was never seen anywhere. It also looked like Yuuri was coached by Yakov, and it could only mean something happened to the figure skating legend. Wild guesses were thrown around. Accident. Sickness. Death. It became so difficult to handle, that Yakov had to hold a press conference and lie through his teeth about an emergency within the Nikiforov family. He told journalists that Victor was handling this as well as he could and was still coaching Yuuri, but could rarely spend time away from home. It explained why he didn’t show up during competitions.

At some point, he started posting on Instagram and Twitter again to calm the masses, though he avoided selfies and observant fans noted how thin his hands were after he took a picture of his fingers covered in doodles (courtesy of Yurio). This sparked a new episode of tears and screams around the world. It prompted Victor to post a statement about his health and reassure everyone that he was more than fine. Both Yuuri and Yurio posted as well. The Russian took a picture of their feet, wearing fluffy socks (in a frankly ugly range of colours), in front of the TV, while they all played a racing game. Yuuri was the one to calm people down, with a carefully planned selfie of the three of them: they all wore party wigs to hide Victor’s hair and make it less suspicious. The time-traveler was in the middle, grinning, face squished between Yuuri and Yurio’s cheeks. It was the only way they could somehow hide how young his features looked, because none of them were good make-up artists. Victor then found out that with the right angle, filters and lights, he could look like his older self, so he graced his followers with a flirty selfie at the rink when nobody expected it.

Yakov was immensely grateful and the outrage passed. However, Yuuri was still booed when he stepped on the ice and people realized Victor was, once again, absent.

He didn’t let it get to him though. Not on the first day. Today was a different story.

The pressure of being the one to beat and the anger he read in the atmosphere affected him so much, he needed Yurio’s help to go back to the locker room after his training in the morning. The kid gave him a bottle of water and stayed with him until his hands stopped shaking.

“You have a few hours to get your shit together, so you better be ready to kick JJ’s ass with me later,” he growled, arms crossed.

Yuuri nodded, feeling slightly stronger. After so many months living with Yurio, he was used to his aggressivity. It didn’t affect him anymore. The only time he thought the kid hated him was back in Sochi, when he screamed at him after finding him in tears. Since then, he had learned that not only Yurio thought it would motivate him to fight and stand up for himself, but also that he didn’t want to hurt him. Not really, anyway. The Russian had just been frustrated to see him miss his jumps so much, because he knew he was better than that. He wouldn’t be at the Grand Prix otherwise.

When Yuuri “stole” Victor from the ice, Yurio’s frustration was directed towards the living legend who didn’t keep his promise to him. Yuuri was unfortunately an easier target. Thanks to the unexpected time travel though, Yurio got his wish: bringing Victor back to Russia. From then on, Yuuri slowly gained his trust. They didn’t spend much time together, just the two of them, because the boy was clinging to Victor (even if he would deny it until the day he died), but the Japanese cherished the few moments they did share. Yurio was like a cat: a moody, tiny, endearing asshole. It was obvious he liked both Yuuri and young Victor.

Taking a deep breath, the Japanese accepted an invitation to Yurio’s grandfather’s house for lunch.

 

 

*

 

 

Katsudon was Yuuri’s favourite food. Pirozhki was Yurio’s. Even though Yuuri wasn’t allowed to eat such a heavy dish, he broke the rule set by Victor as soon as Yurio’s grandfather offered them katsudon pirozhki, something he invented after hearing his grandson gush about the dish made by Yuuri’s mother and Yuuri himself. The kid was so proud of his grandfather that he seemed like a completely different person after the meal, all cheery and cute. They even took a selfie together later and Yurio posted it on Instagram with a caption that surprised the young man:

 

[Image]

15k likes

 

 **yuri.plisetsky** this idiot is getting so old he’s catching up with @v.nikiforov _#wrinklyandbaldy #happybirthday #katsudonpirozhkiftw #rostelecom #mygrandpaisbetterthanyourgrandpa_ @yuurikatsuki

 

They were about to start walking towards the rink after exiting the car, and Yuuri cast a bewildered glance at the Russian.

“It was for my birthday?” he whispered, having a hard time believing it. He thought Yurio just wanted to brag about his grandfather’s cooking and make him feel a little bit better.

With a huff, the teen grabbed his sleeve and dragged him to the rink. Yuuri didn’t let him ignore him, and hugged him. Yurio’s protests were drowned in the sound of the nearby road. He released him and smiled, his worries forgotten, a warmth spreading from his chest to the tip of his fingers. He would be fine.

It was snowing by the time they entered the rink and Yuuri’s nose was stuffed. Yakov screamed at them for disappearing for hours without notice, but both skaters exchanged a glance and changed into their costumes, sharing a smirk. It was the first time Yuuri didn’t apologize to his coach and the first time he giggled behind his back (it wasn’t his fault. Yurio simply had the best metaphors when it came to describe the man’s angry face).

“You spend one day with Yura and you turn into Victor!” Yakov snarled. “I don’t have time for this! If you don’t stop laughing, both of you, I’ll have you shipped somewhere in Siberia and you’ll skate on a lake for the rest of your lives! Understood?”

“My, Yakov, I thought I recognized your sweet voice. It’s like honey, you know. Music to my ears.”

Yurio stilled. His eyes widened. Yuuri turned around so fast he almost hurt his back and a gasp escaped his lips.

He couldn’t see well, but he could recognize short silver hair. He was already crying, his glasses were useless.

“V-Victor!” he croaked, now realizing he was trembling.

Yurio and Yakov started talking at the same time, in Russian, and Yuuri paid them no attention because a blurry figure rushed to his side and embraced him.

He grabbed his coat between his shaky fingers and hid his face in the crook of his neck. He couldn’t talk yet there was so much he wanted to say. Victor’s arms around him were like a vice, refusing to let go.

“I’m sorry,” the Russian skater whispered to his ear, and his words sounded like Hasetsu, like happiness, like home. “I’m sorry I left you all alone. I’m so proud of you for getting this far, Yuuri. I knew you had it in you.”

It was silly, it was stupid, it shouldn’t happen. They didn’t even spend a month together before Victor was ripped away from him. They didn’t know each other. Yet being so close felt just right. Yuuri relaxed. Without breaking their embrace, he wiped his tears with the back of his left hand, then straightened up and placed his palm on the older man’s cheek. Now he could see how beautiful he was and how tenderly he looked at him.

It was a crazy impulse. Yuuri, shy Yuuri, pressed the gentlest kiss on Victor’s lips. Victor froze. Yuuri believed he would pull away. He didn’t. He returned the kiss under Yurio’s horrified expression, the other skaters around them gossiping, giggling and taking pictures, but to Yuuri there was only Victor. They could have been standing in the middle of the rink, on live television, and he wouldn’t have cared.

They only stopped when Yuuri remembered he should breathe, his stuffed nose making it impossible. He knew he was blushing, and was stunned to see Victor’s face just as flushed as his. The living legend was beaming. Yuuri had never seen him so happy… except on those pictures from the banquet. He played with the hair at the back of the older skater’s head, feeling his fingers return the gesture.

Yurio managed to find a spot between them to slam his foot down, screaming at them. Laughing, Victor let go of Yuuri and waved.

“Hi Yurio!”

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE OTHER YOU?”

Thankfully, most people were gone now, having decided to leave the lovebirds in peace once they had enough blackmail material in their phones. Yakov closed the door after the last skater left, informing his students that they needed to start stretching. They only had thirty minutes left.

Yuuri noticed that Yurio’s green eyes were, just like his own, full of tears, but he guessed it wasn’t because he was glad to see his rival.

“He’s at Yakov’s. It’s a bit complicated to travel together. He can pass for me because my passport photo is old and because of our fingerprints but it was him or me. He stayed in St. Petersburg.”

“He’s… not gone?”

Victor gave him a heart-shaped smile and hugged him.

“Nope! Happy? Yurioooo I’m so glad you like me!”

“LET ME GO, MORON! I HATE YOU!”

“But you like hiiiiim! So you like meeee!”

Yuuri was already stretching by now, but he kept his eyes on the Russians, grinning. Something fluttered in his stomach. There was no word to describe how happy he felt right now, it was beyond anything he ever experienced.

For once, he truly believed he could win gold.

When Yurio stomped out of the room, furious, followed by Yakov who just snapped at Victor and told him to accompany his own student to the rink, the silver-haired man kissed Yuuri’s forehead. Busy stretching his back, the Japanese bit his lower lip.

“Should we talk about it?” the time-traveler asked.

Yuuri kept working on his muscles but still answered, so fast he almost choked:

“I’m sorry I don’t remember the banquet but they showed me everything and I want to make you smile just like that every day so please tell me if you don’t want it and I’ll leave you alone but I think I’m right or I hope I am so---”

“Yuuri!” Victor chuckled, and took his hand, making him stop his movements briefly. Their eyes met. “I want to be yours. Can you be my Yuuri? Just mine?”

“For-for how long?” His voice was strangled.

Victor kissed him again.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

  
Yurio and Yuuri shared the podium that night, silver and gold shining around their neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy. My babies are reunited!  
> I have a title for the second part of this series. Once this one is done, you'll enter the world of _Pink Skate Guards and Bunk Beds_ (guess who has pink skate guards. Yes it's young Victor. They're sparkly, too.)


	13. Chapter 13

[Image]

1.876.938 likes

 

**JGPFWinner** spotted something interesting in the locker room #rostelecom @v-nikiforov @yuurikatsuki 

 

**YurisAngel0212** OMFG

**Phichit+chu** no way no way no way!!! @yuurikatsuki CALL ME NOW

**SeaweedHaveFeelingsToo** wait what?

**Sk8te4Me** Is that VICTOR KISSING YUURI?!!!!

 **XxXxGameOverzxXxX** Yuuri kissing Victor you mean

 **Vkusno.311** HOLY SHIT MY HEART

**christophe-gc** Family emergency my ass, he was busy getting some

 

 

**THE NIKIFOROV/KATSUKI CONTROVERSY**

 

_ A picture taken by Instagram user JGPFWinner (who is not a Junior GPF winner), before the Free Skate during the Rostelecom Cup in Moscow, revealed a scandalous and steamy relationship between coach and student. Victor Nikiforov, living legend of figure skating, who won more gold medals than any skater in history, became Yuuri Katsuki’s coach in March, leaving his native Russia and his career behind. While it did anger his fans, it was nothing compared to the horror felt all over the skating world when Nikiforov disappeared from social media a few weeks later. As an avid user of Instagram and Twitter, his lack of activity is still a mystery today.  _

_ Katsuki was spotted in St.Petersburg just a few weeks later and Yakov Feltsman, Nikiforov’s own coach, told the press that Nikiforov was busy with a family emergency. _

_ Was this family emergency just a clever lie to hide Nikiforov’s true colors? We at Skating Scandals can’t help but wonder if Katsuki’s recent winning streak doesn’t hide a darker story.  _

_ To read about how Nikiforov took advantage of Katsuki, click here _

_ To know Katsuki’s dirty secrets, click here _

 

 

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

this article [link] is the dumbest piece of crap I ever read

 

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

Katsudon’s only dirty secret is that he sucks at platform games

 

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

I’m coming for the gold anyway but anyone suggesting that Victor threatened Katsudon and doped him is a fucking moron

 

 

Victor had gone to bed angry, sickened by the article that suggested his older self was somehow abusing Yuuri. He had woken up later than usual, groggy and confused, and against his better judgement, had turned on Yurio’s computer, only to see Yurio’s tweets and be faced with his fans overwhelming support. His older self was probably used to similar articles. They had no value whatsoever. Who in their right mind would trust a website called Skating Scandals, after all? But Victor was sixteen. This wasn’t the first “scandal” he was a victim of, there had been a few back in his own time, quickly silenced as he was a minor, but they always hurt. This one didn’t even concern him, not directly. He could only hope it wouldn’t affect Yuuri.

Victor or Yakov might sue them, or they might not bother unless the story spread. Perhaps Victor was too sensitive right now. 

He had known this day was coming, he had desperately tried to get rid of his crush. Being alone when the news hit had been horrible, his world crashing down just as he was cheering for Yuuri, when the picture of the kiss was posted.

Shifting on the couch as the old clock on the wall struck 3pm, he logged in on his Twitter account, a secret one he had created a few months ago to follow skaters he didn’t know and learn about them. It was interesting to know the people Yuuri and Yurio were up against. He was surprised to find a series of private messages from the blond Russian as soon as he logged in:

 

 

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

You okay?

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

That skater was forced to withdraw from the competition for breach of privacy

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

He’s a junior, that’ll teach him

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

Hey, we’re coming home tomorrow so if you slept in Katsudon’s room you better wash the sheets because it’s creepy

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

We’re at the airport. Katsudon overslept, he looks stupid 

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

[picture]

Looks like the old man overslept too. Don’t cut your hair or you’ll have the same dumb face

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

We’re here. Yakov wants to go to the supermarket. Katsudon and the old man are being gross. They’re fucking giggling at the back of the car. And that dog is drooling everywhere. Save me.

**Ice Tiger of Russia** _ @yuri-plisetsky _

Actually nevermind, you’re still disgusting. Clear your browsing history. It’s my computer.

 

 

Who knew a few texts could make him smile so brightly? A warmth spread in his entire body. The article lingered at the back of his mind but now he had other things to think about.

He drank the last drops of tea still in his mug and turned off the movie he was watching, just so he could hear the car in the driveway.

He sat there in silence, hearing the ticks of the clock and the howl of the wind. It was snowing so much that Victor couldn’t wait until Yurio came back so they could have fun outside. They had both talked about having a snowman contest. Yakov would probably scream at them for taking the risk of getting sick and neither of them cared.

 

 

 **Silver Ice** _@longhairftw_

Hey Yura. I slept like the dead. Thanks for your messages. I’m waiting at home, hurry up.

 

 

Victor snickered after sending his reply. He stirred, yawned, and left the warm cocoon he built on the couch. He washed his mug in the kitchen sink and was struck by a genius idea. He found a pack of expensive chocolate biscuits he bought last time he went grocery shopping with Yuuri, opened it and emptied it on a fancy plate. He then placed several mugs on the table and filled the kettle with water. His friends and coach would definitely need some tea and snacks after driving in a snowstorm.

Restless, he listened to Yurio’s wise advice and started a round of laundry. He only used Yuuri’s bed for sleeping, of course, but it was nicer to wash everything anyway. He also washed Yurio’s blanket and pillow covers, then went outside and did his best to remove the snow piled up in front of the house. It would be all covered up again in a few hours but at least Yakov wouldn’t struggle. Then he took a hot shower, cleaned up the entrance where his boots left numerous puddles of water, and he sat in his room, his elbows resting on the windowsill.

 

 

*

 

 

It was dark when the car arrived. Victor ran down the stairs, and before he could do anything, the door opened and Makkachin tackled him to the floor. The dog then jumped back and Victor heard his own voice yell, followed by the sound of something crashing into a pile of snow. 

The next noise he heard was Yurio’s laughter. He stood up and watched as they all hurried inside, eager to escape the cold.

“Vitya!” Yuuri exclaimed, before hugging him tightly. 

He was freezing, but he looked so happy! Apparently, he didn't care about the stupid article. His cheeks and nose were bright red, from the weather or from fooling around in the car, he didn’t know, but he loved it. He caught the smile of his older self, and decided to gently push Yuuri towards him. Older Victor immediately covered his newly found boyfriend’s face with kisses.

“Bleh. Look at what you’ve done!”

“Yura!”

“DON’T HUG ME!”

“Too late!”

Yurio pretended to struggle. Weakly. 

“You guys were amazing! You’ll both be on the podium at the finale, there is no doubt!”

“We’ll crush JJ.”

Yakov put an end to the chaos by asking if Victor cleaned up the driveway. The answer left him speechless, before he turned to older Victor and yelled at him about learning from the teenager if he didn’t want to join Yuuri and Yurio in Siberia next time they acted foolish in front of him. 

The long-haired skater didn’t know what they were talking about but figured Yurio would tell him. Still holding his friend, this time with an arm around his waist after everyone removed their coats and shoes, he asked if anyone wanted some tea. After receiving some nods, he was left alone while the others carried their bags upstairs. Makkachin seemed a bit confused but ended up staying around the teen, who turned the kettle on.

Hearing laughter upstairs, he felt a strange tug in his chest. He ignored it. He saw Yakov clean up the entrance, and he helped him put the groceries in the fridge. His face was tense as usual.

“The dog is staying for the night,” he grumbled. “Older Vitya is too tired to go home. Thanks again for removing the snow, you’re a good kid.”

Victor beamed. Compliments from his coach were rare enough. Yakov took his mug and a piece of chocolate, then excused himself. He probably needed to rest after being in Moscow with both Yurio and older Victor. As if summoned by his thoughts, the skaters entered the kitchen just as the silver-haired teenager was serving tea - and hot chocolate for Yurio. He felt the strange tug again. It was a familiar sensation, but he couldn’t remember why. He massaged his sternum.

His older self, who was busy making Yuuri blush by whispering something in his ear, ended up looking at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and the teenager shrugged, sitting next to Yurio who was stuffing his face with biscuits.

“It’s nothing, it’s just weird.”

“First of all, never ignore “weird” feelings in your chest. Now, does it hurt?”

He shook his head and explained the tug as well as he could. His adult self snickered.

“Awww baby Vitya is about to go home!”

His eyes widened. Yurio froze, and Yuuri blinked in confusion. Older Victor asked him a few questions about the tug and how well he had slept these past few nights, and the teen started to remember. For three nights, he dreamt of weird swirling pattern that looked like they were made by blades on ice. He didn’t think they were important because he barely recalled them when he woke up. But now… now he knew it wasn’t the first time he felt that tug, or the first time he had these recurring dreams. It happened in April already.

“Is that… the signal? How long do I have?”

“If it’s the fourth day since the first dream, I’d say 24 hours. At least that’s what happened to me, but I’m not an expert.”

Yurio pushed his mug away from him and frowned.

“I’m not sleeping tonight,” he grumbled. “We need to finish the game. And I don’t care if it’s snowing, we’re still building our snowmen.”

Laughing, Victor agreed. He didn’t know how to react to the fact that he would be back in his own time so soon, but he certainly intended to have fun for his last few hours here. Yuuri bit his lower lip before moving towards him and hugging him so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

They didn’t say a word, and both Yurio and older Victor pretended to be fascinated by the wall. 

When Yuuri sat back down, the silver-haired teenager took a deep breath and locked eyes with his older self.

“Tomorrow, let’s all go to the rink. Teach me how to do a quad flip. I’ll become the god of skating. Living legend is not good enough,” he said with a grin.

Yurio laughed and ruffled the other teen's long hair. He didn't scream when Victor kissed his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is the epilogue, which should be posted tomorrow or Monday. :3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll enjoy this epilogue!

_ Three Months Later _

 

There was a silver medal lost in the middle of Victor’s trophies. Sometimes it would mysteriously vanish, only to be back a few hours later. It was a game Yuuri and Victor played, the Japanese believing his medal wasn’t good enough to stand among so much gold. But Victor… Victor was so proud. He called it the platinum medal. 

Yuuri won second place in the Grand Prix Final, beaten by Yurio by just a fraction of a point. Both of them shattered Victor’s long-standing world records, presenting perfect programs to the crowd and judges in Barcelona.

Following an incredible exhibition skate that left everyone breathless, Victor and Yuuri took a few days off and spent them together in the Spanish city, catching up on the time they lost during this strange year. On the last day, they both insisted they had something important to do on their own, and ran into each other in a jewelry store. They had each ordered engagement rings, planning on keeping them safely until the time was right to propose to one another. Encouraged by the silliness of it all, ignoring the nagging voices in their mind telling them it was much too early and they needed to spend more than a few weeks together, they decided fate wanted them together. They proposed to each other in front of a church, smiling, eyes full of wonder. 

The gold ring on Yuuri’s finger shone in the morning light as he was scowling at his medal, back into the trophy case. Victor would never get tired of seeing his fiancé’s bed hair. He tiptoed behind him and pressed a kiss on his exposed neck, liking the view of his naked legs. Yuuri now had the habit of sleeping in his boxers, wearing one of the Russian's shirts.

“Morning,” he whispered.

Yuuri sighed and turned around to kiss him and poke his nose.

“You know Yurio agrees with me, right? That medal has nothing to do here.”

Victor groaned and closed his eyes, enjoying his lover’s warmth in his arms. 

Yuuri was always radiating heat, and Victor’s body was like an ice block. It made him want to cuddle even more. The Japanese would always whine at first, before surrendering to his touch.

Neither of them thought they would one day be so happy.

They lived close to the rink. The Russian was coming back to the ice for next season. He surprised his beloved with a series of programs for years to come, and with his sudden level of conversational Japanese. Yuuri would keep on being Yakov’s student but Victor knew more about coaching than he did a year ago, and would take over after retiring. The Japanese also had something to show him: he danced for him, one evening in Lilia’s empty ballet studio. He made his eyes sparkle in admiration.

Victor’s apartment now showed the obvious signs of a quiet, romantic life, their belongings mixed together, mismatched items fighting in the cupboards because the skaters didn’t want to get rid of their favourite mugs. They had fancy dinnerware sets but rarely used them. There was something charming, very Katsuki-like, about combining their different styles. Their clothes often ended up on the wrong side of the wardrobe, resulting in the men wearing each other’s shirts and pants and socks most of the time.

It looked like they had been living together for years. They were so comfortable around each other that people never believed them when they told them how long ago they actually started dating..

“Hey, it’s snowing again,” Yuuri eventually said, turning his head towards the large window. 

“Good thing it’s our day off.”

Snow always reminded them of young Victor. The kid vanished when he lost a snowman contest against Yurio, just a few hours after nailing a quad flip for the first time. They barely had enough time to take a picture together, one that was now framed in a corner of the living room. An adorable image of the four of them, wrapped in heavy winter clothes, covered with snow and laughing together. skin reddened by frost. They made a mess after coming back inside Yakov’s home. Yurio was screaming because young Victor just ran his icy hands under the back of his shirt, giggling madly, and the next thing they knew, he was gone.

It hadn’t been easy for Yuuri to accept his departure, but it was nothing compared to Yurio’s reaction. Without Yuuri and Victor’s support, the teen might not have been able to reach the podium at all in the finale. Since then, he often lingered at their apartment, claiming that Yakov was annoying, but actually wanting to be close to Victor, even if it wasn’t the *right” one. 

On cue, there was a knock at the door. Yuuri scrambled to put on a pair of sweatpants and Victor laughed.

“Take your time, sleepyhead.”

“I wonder who that is.”

The Russian opened the door and was met with the unexpected sight of a quiet Yurio. 

“Can I come in?” he grumbled.

Speechless, he took a step to the side and closed the door behind him. Since when did Yurio knock, and since when did he ask for permission to do anything? Worried, Victor followed him to the living room after the blond kid removed his shoes and thick coat.

“Vitya, who is-” Startled, Yuuri stilled, and Victor shrugged, hoping his puzzled expression would be enough to say he had no idea what was going on. “I’ll start breakfast,” the Japanese continued. “Yurio, do you want something? Did you already eat?”

“Hot chocolate,” he muttered, his face hidden behind his hair. “And... whatever you’re eating.”

_ Hot chocolate like young me used to make for him, _ Victor thought. Yuuri disappeared into the kitchen, and the Russian living legend chose to sit with the teenager.

At first, none of them said anything. They could hear Yuuri humming while he cooked.

“Sorry for interrupting your day off.”

Now, Victor was even more worried. He turned to face him but waited for him to speak. It didn’t take long.

“How did you do it?” 

“Do… what?”

“Travel back in time.”

He smiled softly. Yurio never told anyone how he was feeling. Something probably happened and he trusted Victor enough to share what was bothering him.

“My father says it’s in my blood. He can do it too. You know what? How about we go ask him? I’m sure my parents would love to meet you. I haven’t visited them in ages and I planned on bringing Yuuri next time. Come with us.”  

“Okay…”

He almost ruffled Yurio’s hair. Almost. His hand was close, but he didn’t dare. On a normal day, Yurio would bite his fingers off. 

The smell of breakfast reached them, just as Yurio opened the bag he left on the floor and gave a piece of paper to Victor. Surprised, he recognized his own handwriting.

 

 

_ Hey Yura, _

_ I don’t know when I’ll be gone and I guess it’ll be without notice. I figured it’d be best to leave you a letter that you could open after I leave. Now I sound sappy. Feel free to think it’s gross. _

_ I don’t care if you hate me after reading this, because I know you’ll just say you do. You’ll pretend to throw up, maybe you’ll tear the letter in tiny little pieces and kick the wall until Yakov screams at you. Maybe you’ll go to older Victor’s place and make his life hell to get back at me. You’ll curse and yell. I’m just sad I won’t be there to see you turn your room upside down. _

_ You know how it is to skate like we do. We live for it. You barely see your grandfather and when you’re not at the rink, you study online. You never meet anyone, and your rinkmates are all older than you, or direct competitors. Mila is nice I guess, but she’s a girl, so she’s more like an older sister for you. Georgi… let’s not talk about Georgi. I still get hysterical when I think about his makeup and the drama, Yura, THE DRAMA! Watching the Cup of China with you was an unforgettable moment. _

_ In my own time, there is no one either. When I don’t skate or study, I try to spend time with Makka. My father works all the time and my mother is scary (the older me says it’s because I’m annoying but he says I should talk to her so I guess I will).  _

_ I went to school at first but it was just too complicated to continue. I wish I could have lessons online, instead I have to study alone and sometimes with a lady who looks like she’s 500 years old and keeps whacking my head, something about making knowledge enter my skull faster and staying in there.   _

_ What I’m trying to say is that you’re my best friend and I’m so happy to have met you. I’m going to miss you so much.  _

_ Well now I’m crying, that’s great.  _

_ Thanks for being awesome. Thanks for letting me rant about Yuuri. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose but you were here for me when I needed it most. It was just a crush, you’ll say, but I think it was beyond that at the end. Thanks for braiding my hair, for playing games with me, for existing. You made this whole time travel thing so worth it. _

_ You can be the greatest skater in the world. I just wish I could compete against you. We would rule the world.  _

_ Yura, if I could stay, I would never leave your side.  _

_ Be nice to Yuuri, and crush JJ at the finale. _

_ All the hugs you hate, _

_ Love, _

_ Vitya _

_ P.S that was even worse than I planned. SO SAPPY. _

  
  


 

This was not only the longest letter Victor had ever written, it also contained some kind of declaration of love he didn’t expect to see there. 

No wonder Yurio was so devastated.

“Yurio, are you in love with Vitya?” he dared to ask, now used to think of his young self as a completely different person.

“M’not sure. I don’t think so. I don’t want to kiss him, I just want him to be there.”

“There are many forms of love. Maybe he’ll come back.”

There was a pause during which they heard more of Yuuri’s gentle singing.

“You think so?” Yurio murmured, finally looking at him. His eyes were slightly red.

“My dad said it happened to him twice. You know what?” he suddenly switched to a more Victor-like, more excited tone : “You should text that kid. Altin, right? You had fun together.”

“He’s in Kazakhstan.”

“Kazakhstan is closer than 2004.”

At that, Yurio snickered. He took the letter back and pushed Victor away, then left the living room, demanding food and calling Yuuri  _ katsudon _ , something he rarely did when he felt down. Victor congratulated himself.

He was even prouder of his idea when Yurio’s phone buzzed and the kid’s face lit up. Otabek Altin would be in Russia in a few weeks and wanted to meet up. The silver-haired man looked at Yuuri, who didn’t understand everything that went on but showed him he could wait for an explanation later.

If Yurio and Otabek became friends, something that was already up to a good start ever since Barcelona, it wouldn’t erase young Victor from the teenager’s thoughts, but it would help. Something told Victor they were already rather close, but that Yurio closed himself off after the Grand Prix Final when Otabek went back to his country.

Relieved, the small tension in the air now completely gone, the trio shared a delicious breakfast, laughing when Yurio pointed at a burnt toast Yuuri had tried to hide from everyone. Victor peppered his lover’s face with kisses and this time, when Yurio told them they were gross, he was smiling.

 

 

* 

 

 

In 2004, a young Victor scowled while doing the dishes, his puppy jumping excitedly around his legs. He sneezed and shivered suddenly, earning a disapproving look from his mother.

“Did you take your medication today, Vitya?”

“...yes.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

A few seconds later, she handed him a small bottle of cough syrup.

“Wash your hands and take this.”

He sighed, dried the last plate he had cleaned with a towel, then eyed the syrup suspiciously. It tasted nasty and made him drowsy. He hated it. There was no escape however, not with the way his mother glared at him, daring him to think about running away. 

A few days ago, Victor found himself naked in the garden, covered in snow, his hair rigid with ice. His father saw him and strangely enough, didn’t ask what he was doing, or why there was snow when it should have melted thanks to a particularly warm April weather. He just ushered him inside and prepared a warm bath for him.

Unsurprisingly, the teenager got sick. He still had a fever today, but since he could more or less function, his mother asked him to help around the house. All he wanted was put on his skates and go to the rink. He was inspired. Every night, he dreamt that he could land a quad flip. He was excited to try. No one ever attempted one in competition, and there was no witness saying a skater landed one in training. No doubt it would anger Yakov, especially since the landing on his quad lutz was still shaky, but he was used to it.

Sometimes, he also dreamt of a ballet dancer. He appeared blurry, but Victor knew he had black hair and was a man. The dancer’s feet morphed into skates towards the end of his dream, and he glided towards Victor, caressing his face before vanishing. And last night, another person appeared next to the dancer, just as blurry, but smaller and blond. When Victor woke up, he was overwhelmed with an inexplicable sadness, drenched in sweat, his fever spiking. His emotions returned to their normal state shortly after he brushed his teeth.

He kept noticing a recurring grin on his father’s lips but thought nothing of it. His mother however, acted like she always did, showing her love for her son by scaring him with her glare.

Swallowing the thick syrup, the teenager shuddered. He excused himself and went back to his room, knowing in a few minutes, he would struggle to keep his eyes open. His mother was right: the sooner his cold was cured, the faster he could go back to the rink.

He put on his pajama and curled up under the heavy, thick blanket. It wasn’t so bad to take a break. At least his sickness wasn’t unbearable, he was just coughing and sneezing a lot.

Before he fell asleep, he heard faraway voices lost in a friendly argument. He didn’t catch all of their words, but the few he did understand made him feel warm and… loved. Like he was part of the conversation, and was important to these people, just as much as they were to him.

It didn’t matter if the words he heard were about overcooked toasts. Somehow, a part of him was there with them, these people he didn’t know, and he never wanted to be anywhere else.

 

 

**END**

_**of part 1** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! I’m so glad this fic received so many great comments, you guys are the best!  
> I wasn’t expecting this story to take such a bittersweet turn. It was supposed to be all fun, but then Yurio happened. I hope I didn’t break too many hearts X_X  
> *cries*  
> Anyway. Hi. Or bye, because it's the end. End of part 1, because there is no way I'm not developing a story in baby Vitya's "world".  
> As I said in a previous chapter, please keep an eye out for part 2, which you can now find here [Pink Skate Guards and Bunk Beds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9982199/chapters/22296806)
> 
> \---  
> I imagine this ending will raise some questions so:  
> \- Baby Vitya doesn't remember and never will, even though he'll keep on having flashbacks, mostly of feelings and emotions, as he grows up. His father remembers glimpses of older Victor. He also recognizes the signs that his son has the same time-traveling gift as him. This will be important in part 2.  
> \- Yurio and baby Vitya... how can I say this. If Vitya had stayed, with the way this story evolved, I could see them together. In a way they already were. At this stage, Yurio might be ace, or just not interested yet, but I believe a platonic relationship would work. I kinda wish I could explore this a bit more, and I did not expect this pairing to work at all. I'll clear it up now though, nothing will happen in part 2.  
> \- Part 2 is the story of baby Vitya and baby Yuuri. It'll be set later than 2004 so it's not exactly baby anything anymore. It's the only way I can make it work without Yuuri being 12 years old.  
> \- I am still unsure if time travel will be present in part 2. In my initial plan it isn't, but then again this initial plan was built before Yurio's feelings started exploding everywhere so... wait and see.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 is here! [Pink Skate Guards and Bunk Beds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9982199/chapters/22296806)  
>  ** _Find me here:_**  
>  Twitter: [@FuzzyJawa](https://twitter.com/FuzzyJawa)  
> Tumblr: [vivi1138](http://vivi1138.tumblr.com/) (main)/ [FluffySnowyEgret](http://fluffysnowyegret.tumblr.com/) (Yuri on Ice-centric)(I reblog stuff, I don't really post, Twitter is more active)  
> My other ongoing multi chapters YOI fics:   
> [Wishes and Thorns](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9136819/chapters/20761603)  
> [Fireworks above the Lake](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11027064/chapters/24575970)
> 
> My completed multi chapters YOI fic:   
> [Eyes Like Frozen Water](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8761624/chapters/20082817)


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